


The Politician's Heart

by theoneandonlylittlebird



Series: The Politician's Heart [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2017, Slow Burn, TEA 2018 Winner for RCIJ!, Tea, The Espenson Awards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneandonlylittlebird/pseuds/theoneandonlylittlebird
Summary: Trapped under the weight of an unearned reputation, Belle French scrambles to adapt when the mayor hires a new librarian without her input. An AU role-reversal in which we meet a YoungSpinner!Rumple Mr. Gold and an older Belle in our world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BarPurple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/gifts).



> TEA 2018 WINNER for Best RCIJ! Thanks everyone! I hardly know what to say other that a profound and deep "THANK YOU!" This means the world to me.
> 
> For BarPurpleWrites fulfilling the RCIJ prompt: hair, panic, kisses, rain, woods.
> 
> It has been a joy and a pleasure being your Santa for 2017's Rumbelle Christmas in July. This prompt could not have been a more perfect platform for my daydreams and I sincerely hope you enjoy this. I told you that Santa colored outside the lines... well, I did. I wanted to explore what these two would be like in roughly the other's circumstances. I imagined how Mr. Gold might have been if he grew up in our world and we met him closer to the phase of Rumple's life when he was a young spinner. The thought of Belle being the older one in the couple intrigued me, so I went with it. Quite AU indeed, but I do hope you'll indulge Santa and maybe even find this to your satisfaction.

 

Prologue

"Listen sis, you are not gonna believe the new librarian."

Belle perked up out of her book where she sat at the other end of Granny's lunch counter. Regina had wasted no time on this, in fact, she must have hired the very first applicant she received. This was the opening salvo in response to Belle's triumph in persuading the city council that, with a generous donation toward the necessary repairs and upgrades, it was in the best interest of Storybrooke to reopen its library over Regina's objections that the money would be better spent elsewhere.

Belle hoped that Regina's success in thwarting Belle's efforts to find a both qualified and sympathetic candidate backfired horribly. A backfire that could and would be helped along if she had anything to say about it. The mayor may have gotten the drop on her this time, but these occasional digs were all Ms. Mills could ever really muster.

They both knew where the power roosted in this town, and it was not in the mayor's office but rather in the little pawn and antiquities shop, just across from the soon-to-open library.

Belle listened pretending to become very attentive to her drink and the novel open in front of her.

"He says he's twenty-four, but his face is so fresh I wonder if he even has to shave every day!" Regina was all but giggling, disgusting, but she was going on, "And he brought his infant son to the interview! That adorable accent! All apologetic about not knowing the town yet having just arrived," the mayor practically gasped for breath trying to get it out too quickly, "and did I mind terribly? He would find a reliable babysitter as soon as possible. Oh the poor boy! I of course told him that I am a single parent myself, and that his plight was completely understandable. I gave him the number for the local daycare. I can't believe what a find he is!"

"Scottish you say?" Zelena was kicking a foot and chewing her straw, all but drooling in rapt interest. An utterly nauseating display. Zelena was Belle's age, for gods' sakes and drooling over a mere boy. Regina's encouragement did nothing to help. "Sophisticated or provincial? The Scottish can have such a charm about them, in either case."

"Sophisticated enough to be educated, but I would say rustically charming with roots in poverty, a definite boot-strapper." Regina took a bite of her lasagna and delicately licked a bit of excess sauce from her lip. "I offered him the apartment above the library for now, but I'll need to find more suitable accommodations because of his disability. That elevator only goes to the basement, who would design a building that way? I can't bear the thought of him carrying his baby up and down with that cane for long. The housing market in Storybrooke is so tight these days."

Belle knew that for the bald faced lie it was. More like, there were few available rental properties that Belle herself did not own. Precisely none, in fact. So the mayor wanted to be certain that her bonny young Scotsman did not become Belle's tenant. That was her way in. The Mayor may have managed to squeak a candidate into the position before Belle could, but that did not mean that he had to become, or remain, the mayor's pet. He could be hers.

Belle smirked. The poor mayor was trying for any leverage she could weasel since her resounding defeat over the library initiative. Yes, the bonny young Scotsman would be hers.

Belle left a wad of bills to cover her lunch and a sizable tip behind and she swiftly exited the diner, a new mission evolving in her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

The land baroness of Storybrooke strode the half a block between Granny's and the library with the heels of her low boots clicking pleasingly on the sidewalk. No one got in her way. Between her elegant suits and confidence, no one could look at her and mistake her for shy or retiring. Not Belle French.

Having inherited his landholdings upon the death of her father, Belle had, for better and worse, also inherited the town's opinion of Maurice French. He had been a calculating, cut-throat and merciless loan shark on top of his slumlord-esque property management practices. Growing up, Belle had been left alone because no one would risk allowing a child anywhere near a play date with French's daughter.

But Belle had her mother's heart. And the heart of a storybook character. Until she died when Belle was twelve, her mother had been her only friend and the sole source of warmth in Belle's life. After that incident, Belle had done her best to stay out of her father's line of fire so Belle and her books had developed an inseparable bond. Though Maurice had doted on his daughter in all outward appearances, he had little time for her, always ready with an apology for why he had to be away ensuring her future happiness.

As if he were not the precise implement of its destruction.

Maurice had loved his wife, and Belle knew he cared for her too, but the thrill of exacting money from this town called to his heart far more than family life ever would. That is not to say he was not devastated after Collette's passing, after all, Collette was the reason he gave for drinking himself to death. Belle thought privately that her mother had been the only thing preventing her father's blackened and withered heart from crumbling to dust and blowing away.

It took him awhile to achieve that end, however, and his demise could not have been less timely for Belle. She had been in the midst of her studies at university, enjoying her pursuit of dual majors in history and English literature, and, most importantly the first chance she had had away from the silent shunning of her Storybrooke peers.

Those blissful two years of college away from all of this were the only glint of what true happiness might have been like she had ever glimpsed.

In the more than two decades since then, Belle had effectively taken out the trash in the rental market of Storybrooke and now held a firm but fair, and legal, hand on the property management tiller. It had been a long and arduous process of updating a town's worth of properties to meet code at the very least. Belle would run no tenement fire traps.

For all her trouble, however, the citizens of Storybrooke had not given her the slightest benefit of the doubt. She would find it hard to believe that they had even noticed the amelioration in their conditions because they were too busy sneering about her unreasonable practice of expecting contracts to be honored- rent to be payed on time.

She knew, no matter what she did, no one would ever come close to appreciating a landlady, never mind friendship. So Belle had two domains of solace in her world, her books and her shop.

And now, she had a librarian to acquire before it was too late and the town poisoned him against her. Not that she had any illusions that he would be other than a useful pawn against Regina, but Belle knew the acquisition of a new public figure in town would be essential to keeping Regina in line. She saw no reason to stock Regina's arsenal when she could be padding her own.

Belle pulled open the door of the library but she did not see him immediately upon her entry amid the dust and clutter.

But she did hear him and her brows lifted.

"Ye banks and braes and streams around the castle o' Montgomery, green be your woods and fair your flowers..." the elegant poem trailed off in a grunt and a thump.

Drawn as if by a siren to that voice, Belle found herself staring down at a shapely, jeans-clad backside pointed skyward in her direction among the stacks. He had just set down another pile of books and was neatening them, a filthy rag trailing from his back pocket.

"-your waters never-"

"Good afternoon," Belle said crisply as she looked away from the comely view presented to her.

But she promptly returned her gaze when instead of a reply she heard a cry, the dull sound of books tumbling to the floor and followed by a clatter. The last had been a gold-handled elegant cane hitting the linoleum. A grimacing face framed by silky looking brown hair to his shoulders stared back at her through frameless square glasses.

She had hurt him. A terrible first impression.

Belle rushed forward, all apologies, "Oh, forgive me! I never meant to startle you, are you alright?"

She retrieved the cane, heedless of being on her knees grinding the dust into her suit pants. She reached for his shoulders awkwardly uncertain of how to best help him up when she heard a baby cry.

"Oh Brandon, it's alright, Papa's here." Seeming to forget her entirely, he half slithered, half crawled awkwardly around the end of the nearest shelf to where Belle could just see a baby's bouncy seat poking around the corner. "Shh, shh, hush my wee one, Papa's here."

The infant soothed surprisingly easily and the now thoroughly disheveled Scotsman rolled onto his bottom to look up at her from beside his child. "Good afternoon," he returned her formal greeting as if he were trying not to appear covered in grime after having been sprawled on the floor.

Belle, genuinely appalled that she had caused this horrendous scene, extended a hand and again his cane toward him and tried again as sincerely as she could to convey herself appropriately, "Please forgive me, have I hurt you? I never meant to startle you!"

"I'm quite alright,-" Belle thought he was lying from the tight set of his jaw and the tension in his brow, "how may I help you, Ms.?"

"French, but please, call me Belle."

He accepted the cane but not her hand opting to struggle to his feet on his own. Belle herself rose a bit awkwardly feeling soreness in her knees where she had hit the ground in her attempt to rescue him. Age, it seemed, had begun its relentless persecution.

"Very well, Ms. Belle, what can I do for you?" His voice pleasant in a clear attempt to appear as impressive as possible after, well, such an embarrassing incident.

"Please, just Belle is fine. I'm on the city council, and you must be the new librarian, Mr.-? Belle offered her hand to him to shake.

He accepted her hand this time, to her relief, in a firm but cordial grip.

"Gold, Cameron Gold. And yes, I am your very new librarian. So new that I have yet to see to my family's accommodations. This is my son, Brandon." He beckoned her with a smile to come around the corner and lay eyes on a perfect infant's face, snuffling in his sleep.

Belle did not have to feign melting over the baby, "How wonderful! Hello, Brandon, I am so very pleased to meet you, my dear."

Belle was reasonably certain she had never cooed in her life, but it had just fallen out of her mouth, so disarmed was she at the moment.

His smile was worth every discomfort she felt at being most sincerely off on the wrong foot with this project. She returned his smile.

"Mr. Gold, I do hope you aren't hurt, I never meant to creep up on you. Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm fine, thank you for the offer, but no," he smiled graciously at her, but she noticed he had yet to put much weight on his right foot.

"Well," Belle continued crisply, "I have made a poor job of welcoming you to Storybrooke, so far, will you at least let me make it up to you by offering you more suitable, and family friendly, accommodations than a dusty historic building can provide?"

He blinked at her, "Accommodations?"

"Yes, I have several properties available which I believe will be much more convenient for you than three flights of stairs and a cramped apartment." Belle raised her eyebrows hopefully as she spoke, "In fact, I have a single story three bedroom house right now which I have not yet rented with a yard in a very safe neighborhood. Could I interest you in seeing it?"

His face had fallen immediately at the mention of three bedrooms, "I am afraid that I have sincere doubts as to whether my salary will extend quite as far as three bedrooms, Ms. Belle, but do you have any studio or one bedroom apartments without stairs available?"

Belle could be charming when she wanted to, and she wanted to. And, having negotiated it herself, she knew exactly what his salary would entail. She mentally tailored her future rental offer to match.

She tsked, dismissing his concerns, "You see, and this is a bit awkward, the reason the house isn't rented is because it is next door to mine. If you can stand your neighbor, the rent is quite affordable. I promise to be a model neighbor, the cookies and welcome to the neighborhood sort, and otherwise stay out of your hair."

Belle knew in that instant she had said two things wrong. She had no intention of staying out of his hair, and, she had mentioned his hair, which meant she was now staring at how its glossy softness shone in the light. Damn Regina for being right. Bonny young Scotsman indeed. The BYS could get her into trouble if she did not watch herself. Carefully.

But, she could not help but beam at him when she saw his resolve crumble, he murmured, "I suppose it would not hurt to see the property, I have yet to have much of a chance to look around Storybrooke anyway."

"Perfect! I can get my car and we can go directly, if you like."

"I do appreciate the offer, but I am on the clock."

"Have you taken a lunch?" Belle suspected she already knew the answer.

"Uh, no I have not, I found myself rather involved in this task. The reopening seems so far away now, but it will be here in no time I'm sure."

"Lunch time it is," Belle announced with conviction, "we can take care of that first and then go see the property. I'm buying."

He blinked at her, but then nodded and began to transfer Brandon to his nearby carseat. "Uh, thank you Ms. Belle. Having grown up in Glasgow, I guess I'm not used to the intimacy of a small town."

Then he flushed scarlet for some reason. Belle ignored that and gave him another smile, "You'll find that everyone knows everyone here. Intimacy, as you aptly described it, is unavoidable."

His flush was spreading and though it was summer, Belle did not think it that warm in the old library building.

"Um," he began as he managed the infant's limbs with expert care, "I had to return the rental this morning, so I am in the market for a car too. I don't suppose you have one of those lying around?"

Belle kicked herself for not having thought of it before, of course he would not have a car being fresh off the boat as he was. "Sadly not, but I do know a reliable mechanic's shop which serves as the closest thing Storybrooke has to a dealership. I am certain Gus can set you up with something reliable. I'll point it out on our way to Granny's."

"Thank you," he smiled at her and Belle's insides inexplicably shrunk a size, "I have received an incredibly kind reception here in Storybrooke, such a change from my previous situation. A very welcome one." 

Brandon waved sleepy arms but his father securely contained his sleeper clad little limbs. He remained asleep while Mr. Gold snuggled him into his carseat and checked the tension of the tiny harness. Belle did not think she would ever be so at ease with a newborn. How did he do it? Brandon could not be more than a month old. Or maybe he had another child? Elsewhere?

She brought her mind back to what was important, securing his good opinion.

"Mr. Gold, Storybrooke's library has been closed for far too long! As I love books myself, I am ecstatic you're here. I can't wait to see what ideas you have for the place." Belle gave him her best disarming smile.

"A fellow book lover!" His eyebrows raised hopefully as he stood and turned toward her with Brandon's car carrier in one hand and his cane in the other. "I confess part of the appeal of this library is getting to start from scratch. I get to make this program my own, develop it, nurture it into just what this town needs. Tell me, what do you like to read, Ms. Belle?"


	3. Chapter 3

The bell above the door jangled as Belle held it open for Mr. Gold and Brandon.

"-Bronte could not have paid Austen a higher compliment than her Jane Eyre. And we have all profited, I'd say." Mr. Gold was saying as he stepped by her into the diner.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Mr. Gold. I most love Jane Eyre as a character for the simple fact that she was written as a complete person, something lacking in the portrayal of so many female characters even to this day." Belle found herself smiling easily with him as their shared passion lubricated the conversation, awkwardness having fallen away in the very brief car ride.

From the way he had been surreptitiously flexing and rolling his ankle, Belle suspected she had made the right choice in suggesting that driving even the short distance to the diner would be efficient to their later aims of seeing the house.

Mr. Gold followed her to a corner table and knelt awkwardly to undo the clasps of Brandon's harness. Then he frowned and looked back up at her for a second, hesitation obvious.

She almost spoke but then he asked her, shyly, "Since you're here, could I ask you to, would you mind terribly, holding him for just a moment while I get situated? I don't like to leave him in his carseat for too long."

The flush was rising up his cheeks again and it spellbound Belle to the point that he looked away and began to shake his head before her words tumbled out in a breathy rush, "Oh, yes! Of course, I would love to!"

Mr. Gold gave her a tremulous smile and then retrieved Brandon, careful not to wake him, from his carrier. He nodded toward her chair and she sat down.

Not sure how this would go, Belle awkwardly extended her hands toward the baby.

Mr. Gold stepped into her personal space and after one very memorable whiff of BYS, sweat and a faint but slightly fruity cologne, Belle stopped breathing all together. She had no time to consider her reaction to his scent before he had settled Brandon's head against her shoulder and his body against her chest.

"Like this," he murmured, "one hand behind his head, good, now take his bum from me, perfect, just snuggle him and I won't be but a moment." 

Belle did as instructed curling in around the snoozing infant, breathing in his sweet baby scent and enjoying the warmth of his body against hers. His baby hair was so soft against her cheek and-

The whole diner had come to absolute silence, so quiet that the sizzling of the flat top in the kitchen was clearly audible near the windows where they sat. Belle opened her eyes and glanced around.

It was as if someone had pushed pause.

Everyone was staring, turned around in their seats, slack jawed. The janitor Leroy's knife slipped his now limp grip and clattered to the floor.

That was when Mr. Gold noticed and looked up, alarmed at the scene they had apparently caused.

"Carry on," Belle said softly knowing everyone would hear her clearly. Anxious eyes flicked away, people turned back to their plates and the buzz began to resume its usual volume.

"What just happened?" Mr. Gold had been elbow deep in the diaper bag but now he had his quizzical eyes fixed on hers.

"They don't know why you would ever hand me your baby." Belle answered honestly on impulse but regretted it and dropped her eyes, cuddling Brandon closer. Mr. Gold would take him back now, she was certain. Why had she chosen to be frank with him?

"I don't see why," he said after a beat.

She looked up at him feeling the smallest bit hopeful, but she said flatly, "They will be quick enough to tell you, I'm the landlady."

"And if I wanted to hear it from you instead?" His eyes had locked onto hers.

"Then I'd prefer to tell you my story more privately. I'll make you a deal, you tell me how it is you ended up an ocean away from home with a newborn and I'll tell you how I came to own a town." Belle did not make a habit of making deals when she was uncertain she would come out ahead, but somehow, with his baby in her arms, she wanted to make this deal.

"Alright." Mr. Gold smiled at her. Was that a hint of slyness or was she imagining things?

He returned his attention to the diaper bag and freed Belle to address the eyes that she could still feel on her.

Oh yes, two sets of eyes were still on her, having not gone back to minding their own business as she had directed. Regina and Zelena.

She had hoped they would still be here.

Belle flicked her gaze to Mr. Gold to ensure he was still focused on the diaper bag before she returned the stares with the most predatory smirk she could muster.

She could see Regina's jaw clench from here. Perfect.

Belle dismissed her adversary from her mind and began to rock Brandon gently letting her eyes drift closed for just this little moment.

"You sure you want to do that, Mister? She'll charge you for babysitting." Ruby slapped menus unceremoniously down on the table between them. Belle startled and so did Brandon, but her hands and soft shushing kept his cry face from becoming more than that. Ruby continued in a tone so sweet it would rot teeth, "If you need any help, any at all, just ask for me or Granny, we can get you all settled in with everything you need. Without the risk of debt."

Mr. Gold looked a bit shell shocked and only got as far as working his jaw soundlessly before Ruby jumped in again.

"I'll be back to take your order in just a few, 'k?" And she bounced away.

Ruby was more Mr. Gold's age so Belle could hardly blame him for looking as he blatantly stared after her. As if Ruby's outfits would not cause anyone to stare all on their own.

"They will tell you all kinds of stories, Mr. Gold." Belle nuzzled his infant's hair knowing that any moment he would take the baby back and she would never have this again. "Tell me, are you the kind of man who forms his own opinions?"

Mr. Gold had taken an odd cloth and straps contraption out of the bag which he had begun buckling to himself. "I like to think so," Belle could tell he had more on his mind, "I'll tell you this much, our deal aside. I know what it is like not to have the good opinion of someone when it matters."

Belle bristled defensively and opened her mouth to insist that the opinions of trampily clad waitresses did not matter, but she closed it again and then nodded. She had agreed to tell him her story, so she would, but not here.

A few more buckles snicked into place and then what she had been dreading came to pass, Mr. Gold reached for Brandon.

"You didn't think you were getting him back did you?" Belle mustered all the gentle teasing she could into her all too serious statement. She wanted to keep holding this baby.

She must have looked sufficiently pathetic (not a condition she normally aspired to) because Mr. Gold smiled wryly and sat down across from her. Quiet fell briefly between them and Mr. Gold relocated his cane to lean it against the wall instead of hooked on his chair as it had been.

Annoying as she was, Ruby saved Belle from having to deal with an awkward silence.

"Ready to order?"

"Oh," Belle smiled in response to Mr. Gold's gesture for her order to precede his, "just iced-tea for me, thank you."

Across from her, Mr. Gold fumbled the menu and then looked to her for aid, he had had little time to actually look at it. "Suggestion?"

"The burgers aren't half bad, provided they come with sufficient pickles. It burgers are something you enjoy."

"High praise, I'll be sure to let Granny know." Ruby rolled her eyes at Belle, but her gaze gravitated back toward the now squirming newborn.

"I'm in an American diner, I should give tradition a try at least once. And ah," he looked from Ruby to his son, "a cup of hot water so I can warm up his bottle?"

"Oh, of course!" Ruby dripped saccharinely all over the table, it was gross, "He's adorable! You're the new librarian right? Not quite how I pictured a librarian, you know, grey hair, a bun and well, you do have glasses, but, oh listen to me, I'll get the hot water right out to you. And welcome to Storybrooke!"

Utterly nauseating. Twice in one day, Belle noticed, she had wanted to be sick in the diner. She needed a new establishment for lunch.

Her companion pulled a prepared bottle out of his bag and set it on the table in anticipation. He said, "Tell me about the house?"

Belle smiled, "Oh of course, you'll just love the neighborhood. It's quiet and safe bordering on a green belt with lots of trails for walking. It's an easy walk to Storybrooke elementary, matter of fact. Lots of parents walk their kids to school in the mornings. The house itself doesn't quite fit with the rest of the neighborhood, but that's because the old victorian mansion that was there fell into disrepair and got torn down. The property owners at the time probably didn't want a mansion to deal with so they rebuilt a more modern, single-story family home. My father acquired the property after the owner defaulted on a loan when I was a kid so now I rent it out. It's a lovely home and I'm certain it will be a good fit."

During her sales pitch Brandon had begun mouthing at her lapel and a wet mark had begun to slowly expand. Belle did not care. She had watched Brandon more while she was talking, sing-songing it to him in places, than she had Mr. Gold.

His baby eyes were searching about now and his little fist was inching toward his mouth.

Then she noticed that Mr. Gold had not said anything in response so she looked up.

He was watching her. Calmly, interestedly, like he wondered what she would do next with his son.

Belle ventured an honest, if tremulous smile at him. Mr. Gold was a very easy man to like. But she looked away again when she remembered, all too soon, that while she may be able to charm him sufficiently to be her ally against Regina's plots, he would soon hear enough to withdraw any truly friendly feelings he might develop. This feeling of companionship and warmth was a limited time offer and she knew it.

She nuzzled Brandon's baby head unabashedly.

"You seem, if it's no intrusion to say so, a bit sad and you haven't mentioned a family of your own." He did not actually ask a question, but he did not need to.

"Your perception does you credit, Mr. Gold. Indeed I have no family. I have a town to manage and that does not lend itself to family life, regardless of whatever daydreams I might entertain." Belle found herself answering him honestly again. All this candor would surely come back to bite her, but the clawing ache in her chest would not be ignored. If, even for this one afternoon, she might share a normal moment with a person who did not despise her, it would be worth whatever discomfort followed. She knew how to deal with discomfort.

"Sounds like you may be far too busy to be spending an afternoon shepherding a librarian around the sights of Storybrooke. You certainly don't have to, you know." He sounded almost like he hoped she would not take the out he offered her.

She did not take it.

"Maybe I am taking the afternoon off, because I want to." She offered him a tentative smile.

And he returned it. "I'm glad."

Ruby addressed herself to Mr. Gold when she arrived with a tray, "Here's for your little guy and of course for you. I'm Ruby by the way."

She set Belle's drink down without looking at her.

"Cameron," he reciprocated, "nice to meet you, Ruby."

"Can I get you anything else?" She chirped at him like a wind up toy insect.

"Ms. Belle?" Belle shook her head giving Ruby her best level gaze, he continued, "I think we're all set here, thanks."

"You just let me know if you need anything, Cameron, anything at all."

Belle needed a fly swatter.

Mr. Gold put the bottle in the hot water and dug into his burger without hesitation, all but wolfing it down. Belle blinked.

He noticed and put his food down. "It's just that I only have hot food available until his bottle is warm or he starts crying, whichever is first, then it'll be cold by the time I get to it. Sorry."

His sheepishness was adorable.

"Please, eat up, I understand, besides which, I get to hold him a little longer." Belle stroked his fine baby hair, it was so soft.

Silence fell between them as he ate so Belle closed her eyes and rocked Brandon hoping to keep him quiet long enough for his father to enjoy his meal.

She opened her eyes to Mr. Gold's soft, "Ok, I think we're ready now."

He was standing over her and bent down to extricate his son from her arms. It was only as he slid his fingers securely around Brandon's little thigh that Belle came to her senses about where his fingers were in relation to her. A man's hand was actually touching her breast. And he had touched her before, when he had settled the baby on her shoulder. She had not even noticed then, so focused she was on holding a baby for the first time.

A hard swallow and Belle was fighting a blush unsuccessfully.

He noticed.

"Oh!" He hastily removed his fingers and his son from her body, "I am so sorry, I wasn't thinking, please excuse me, I didn't mean to-"

Belle held up a hand and swallowed in a tight throat with effort, "It's fine, Mr. Gold, I don't mind."

Maybe she should not have said that. Exactly. There were any number of appropriate things to say in such a situation, but not that.

"Oh, uh, well," Mr. Gold said nothing further and pivoted on his good leg back to his own chair. Distinct color tinged his features as well, but he was trying to cover it by nuzzling his son and crooning to him about lunch time.

Then he did something she had never seen done before. He crossed one knee over the other and lay Brandon on his side along his leg to give him his bottle.

"I've never seen a baby fed that way before."

Mr. Gold smiled, "Oh, yes, on television you see babies eating on their backs, but that's not as safe. You see, Brandon was five weeks premature and had trouble eating at first. He choked a lot so he had to spend an extra three weeks in the hospital. The nurses taught me how to feed him safely. If you think about it, babies naturally eat on their sides when their mothers feed them. Right? The nurses told me that even normal newborns shouldn't be bottle fed laying on their backs. Either sitting up or side-lying, like this, is safer."

Where was his mother? Belle badly wanted to ask but knew this was not the place for that conversation. "I had no idea. You're amazing with him, you know."

Rather than smiling and accepting the compliment, his brow creased and after a moment he said, "Why is it so amazing? It shouldn't be amazing just to be what a father should be."

She blinked, "You're right about that, I suppose, but I only meant that you are clearly a good father."

A sad smile passed over his face, "Thank you for that, I guess."


	4. Chapter 4

Moving Mr. Gold and Brandon into the house next door after their work days ended took a grand total of one trip. Mr. Gold had packed a week's worth of necessities for himself and Brandon and put the rest into storage to deal with at a later date. He must have been in a hurry for some reason.

His sleeping bag and Brandon's camping bassinet rounded out the furniture, if a sleeping bag and inflatable mat counted as furniture.

But his smile as he strolled through the house, with his son strapped to his chest in that complicated contraption she had seen him put on in the diner, told her that whatever his rush to get here, he was determined to make the most of this new life. Brandon slept against his father's chest while Mr. Gold murmured to him about what his room would be like and other things Belle could not quite catch through his rounded accent.

Just inside the doorway of the third bedroom, Mr. Gold stopped cooing at Brandon. He was looking around the room as if he was not seeing what was actually there, but rather what the room could be.

He turned to her, "May I paint?"

"Of course," Belle responded automatically before realizing that she had never allowed any other tenants to paint since her father died because they invariably did an abjectly terrible job. But he looked so hopeful at her with that youthful face and those huge warm eyes.

A pet, she was making him her pet, allowances had to be made. It had nothing to do with making him happy. Nothing.

"I used to paint as a child, water colors in school. My father never bought me any paints, but I had a teacher who gave me a set at the end of the year once. Papa never cared about my paintings, but..." Mr. Gold trailed off, staring into the walls like they had life and dimension exceeding the plain, flat, white Belle could see.

"Have dinner with me?"

What? Who said that? It had been her of course, whom else, but the tone that just missed plaintive was nothing she recognized as hers.

Mr. Gold turned to her giving her the gaze he had just been giving the walls of this empty room. He opened his mouth part way, but she did not let him speak.

"I'm afraid it's just pasta and greens tonight, but there just aren't too many options for eating out in Storybrooke and Granny's more than once a day is more than anyone should have to bear." If he had sounded hopeful a moment ago, now she did. What had possessed her to make this invitation? She had work to do. Real work. She had made plenty of headway with him today and pushing too hard would be the road to certain failure.

For some reason there was color at his collar and creeping up under his jaw, "Ah, that sounds lovely, are you certain you want an infant in your home?"

That was a bizarre thing to say, Brandon was not a dog or other smelly, unkempt beast.

"It would be my pleasure to have you both, of course," Belle smiled feeling warmth stirring under her ribcage. "Especially if his father lets me hold him some more."

Now that was truly and utterly out of line. Belle blinked rapidly and looked away, completely unaccustomed to being so out of control. Belle French never did or said anything not made to measure, not meant for a specific purpose. This kind of unguarded candor, where was it coming from?

"Two hot meals in a day? I haven't had the luxury in seven weeks. Let me get his things."

Belle found herself looking at his chocolate gaze and feeling completely naked.

No, do not think about naked. Do not.

The warm summer evening did nothing to help.

Mr. Gold turned away from Belle and she followed him back toward the living room where his rather paltry possessions sat in a heap that took up an end table's worth of space. She could help him with that too.

In fact...

"Mr. Gold, would you consider dropping by my shop tomorrow afternoon or the next? I have some furniture in the back taking up space which no one has seen fit to purchase. I have an incoming shipment and I need the room. Would it be a terrible imposition to store it here? Maybe you would even get some use out of it until I can get everything settled. I'll otherwise have to send it to storage."

He had the diaper bag halfway to his shoulder, "I think," he stopped, "I think I have plenty of room here and you've been more than generous with me." He licked his lips, "Much more than I would ever have expected, do you mind if I ask why?"

Belle did not have to fake the flush that raced to her hairline. Land Baroness of Storybrooke Belle French could not even look at her tenant. She said finally, barely distinguishable from a squeak, "Because I want to. We don't get many new people here in Storybrooke, and I barely leave town, let alone get to travel."

None of that was a lie. But it was, of course, not the whole truth either. She needed to be a hell of a lot more careful.

"Oh, I see, I suppose you are very busy and don't get much time for holidays." Mr. Gold was watching her, she could feel it.

"Indeed I don't." With that Belle steeled herself looked him in the eye and said, "Shall we?"

He nodded, his expression clearly considering.

Out on the porch, Belle heard the familiar New York accent identifying its owner before turning around to see Madame Mayor scolding her ten year old son Henry about half a block away. She was gesturing with a book in one hand and his head was down, eyes on the sidewalk. Belle sighed, they were probably on their way home from a therapy appointment. Everyone knew that Henry's vivid imagination had driven his mother to distraction.

The deadbolt made a satisfying thunk as Mr. Gold slid it home with the key, enough so that Regina looked toward them suddenly. With her back to Mr. Gold, Belle gave Regina a gloating smile and then turned to Mr. Gold.

"Mr. Gold, won't you meet the Mayor's son? They are also your new neighbors. Hi, Henry!" Belle shouted and waved at the boy.

Belle did not wait for Mr. Gold before striding down the driveway toward the ill-concealed scowl that awaited her.

"Madame Mayor, Henry, what a lovely evening for a walk. Henry I'd like you to meet your new neighbors Mr. Gold and his son Brandon. They've just moved in today." Belle had no need to look at Regina to feel the seething roll over her in waves.

Henry, though she had no idea how, was a sweet, kind-hearted boy who smiled openly at the bonny young Scotsman.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Gold. Mom says you're gonna open up the library. It's been boarded up my whole life and I always wondered what it would be like. Are you going to have a Harry Potter section?" Henry brought light everywhere he went, made more obvious by the storm cloud hovering over his shoulder in the shape of his displeased mother.

"It's very nice to meet you young man and of course we will have every Harry Potter book there is. Good to see you Madame Mayor, Ms. Belle didn't mention you live in the neighborhood." Mr. Gold's tone was that of the quintessential employee not wanting to miss an opportunity with the new boss.

"Didn't she now," Regina oozed charm, "well, welcome to the neighborhood, Mr. Gold. I am delighted we'll all be so close. Henry and I were just discussing how he was going to try out reading mystery stories next, since he's read all the Harry Potter books now."

Belle wondered if Regina even noticed her son's face fall and the brightness fade from his features. "Henry, if you liked Harry Potter, I have a beautiful full set of the Lord of the Rings novels in the shop right now. Why don't you come by after school and I'll show them to you?" Belle would encourage Henry's imagination any way she could, especially if it irritated his mother. "It's full of dragons and elves and dwarves and these curious creatures just your size called hobbits. Oh, and wizards. Mustn't forget the wizards."

Belle gave the boy every ounce of genuine affection she could. And he returned her smile in full force.

"I'd love to, Miss French!"

She knew she had scored a point when she saw the sympathetic smile on Mr. Gold's smooth cheeks. His hair shone in the dwindling evening light. Bonny, too much so.

"Well, Mr. Gold, it is wonderful to have you in the neighborhood. Dinner is waiting for us, isn't it Henry?" Regina had her megawatt smile plastered to her face again and Belle wondered if Mr. Gold was fooled. She certainly was not.

Belle cursed herself inwardly for having forgotten to mention that she had a short set of steps leading up to her house but she was already halfway up them before she thought to see if he needed help.

He did not, apparently, making good use of the railing to his left so she said nothing about it and busied herself unlocking her door instead.

"I hope you will excuse the clutter, I did not expect the pleasure of visitors." Belle saw through fresh eyes what her home really looked like. A huge salmon (pink) monstrosity crammed with antiques, dust and books. The books were everywhere, some open, some with bookmarks dangling haphazardly and others in short or tall stacks. Good thing Mr. Gold was a librarian or Belle might have felt truly embarrassed.

Maybe he did not mean to stare but stare he did as Belle kicked off her shoes and retired her purse and keys. Conveniently, Belle was able to surmise that his head tilting this way and that meant he was discovering the titles on the book spines facing his way. And he was smiling.

A thrill settled in Belle's midsection and she knew she was in trouble. Her scheme was going to fail because for the first time in two decades, another human being had captured her attention and for once, she wanted to keep his good opinion. Belle knew much better than to consider closeness to a tool and that's all Mr. Gold could ever be, a means to hem in Regina. A hopefully very sharp tool.

Then a longing so fierce squeezed the breath out of her lungs and she felt her eyes prickle as she looked after his gaze toward the books which served as a facade covering the vast emptiness of her life.

"Are you alright, Belle?" He had dropped the Ms.

"Oh, yes, it's just that it's been just me and the books here for so long now. So many books, all of them read, and no one to share their secrets with. My mother was the last person in my life to share my love of reading. I suppose I was remembering her." In a round about way, Belle supposed that was true enough. He seemed to buy it in any case. Thank the gods.

"Has she been gone long then?" A gentle query.

"I was twelve, so, yes." Belle smiled up at him hoping it was bright enough to move them both away from this dangerous topic.

But he was not to be dissuaded. If anything, his tone became more intimate, "Is that why the library is so important to you?"

He had begun nuzzling Brandon's head and rocking back and forth.

Even discomfited as she was, Belle saw the opportunity when he presented it. An honest answer and all of her borderline intrusive behavior would be swept neatly under the rug of grief. He would not know that he had gotten to her in less than half a day, and thus the mayor would never find out about this new weakness. Belle's affinity for the written word was a secret to no one. She was covered. She whispered without having to fake even a drop of sincerity, "Yes, that's why I personally funded the upcoming renovations and its restocking. That was the deal I made with the city council. They pay you, I get them past the initial overhead."

Mr. Gold stopped rocking and looked at her intently. Then he stepped into her personal space and reached for her. Belle almost panicked, but he only squeezed her shoulder once saying, "We'll be sure to do your mother proud. And since now I know I owe this job to you, thank you."

Belle found herself blinking rapidly and staring back into his eyes over his baby's head.

For gods' sake, he was barely more than a teenager but he carried himself with the poise of an adult making her forget his youthful appearance. Perhaps he had grown up fast, that happened sometimes, as she well knew. Those kinds of thoughts were not helping and she was still gazing at him.

At noon today she had silently berated Regina's openly lecherous attitude toward an innocent boy and now... now she had him in her house and she was gazing at him. And he was gazing back.

Belle licked her lips but that was the wrong thing to do because his eyes followed the motion of her tongue. Panic did set in then and it was probably for the best, "I should really start dinner, so we have a meal at some reasonable hour."

Belle backed away from his touch and beckoned him to follow her toward the kitchen. He did so.

In the kitchen, Belle became a whirlwind of activity and a font of town history to cover her embarrassment over acting like a fan girl drooling over a movie star.

Thankfully he listened and began preparing Brandon's meal in a clean bottle from his bag while she bustled about.

In no time the veggies for the sauce were chopped, in the pan simmering and she had begun on a simple appetizer of cheeses and olives. Her cracker selection was thin, but serviceable for tonight at least.

"That smells delicious, Belle." Mr. Gold smiled at her, "Do you enjoy cooking?"

"I do, very much, Mr. Gold." At that point she realized his omission of the Ms. had been repeated and was therefore clearly intentional. "Any interest in culinary art yourself?"

"Oh, please call me Cameron, and I am afraid not, between my studies, my poverty and him, cooking has been kept to the bare necessities. But now that I have my first adult job, maybe that will change. But honestly, I wouldn't know where to begin." Brandon began to stir and his father kissed his forehead. Mr. Gold put the fresh bottle in the hot water before he said, "I'd like to get him changed before I feed him, may I use the facilities?"

"Of course! Where are my manners? Just through here." Belle preceded him back into the hallway and then turned on the light in her guest bathroom for him. At least she did keep fresh toweling and toilet paper stocked. So much of the house had fallen into dust and disuse it was embarrassing. Why had she not thought of that before inviting him over? She could have told the cleaning service to thoroughly clean the house instead of the bare minimum she usually paid for. She had had no one to impress. What an unexpected change. Belle asked belatedly, "Is there anything you need?"

He turned around and shook his head, "No, thanks."

Belle hustled back to the kitchen and stirred the sauce with unnecessary vigor in an attempt to get her heart to stop pounding in her chest. She had a man and a baby in her house, and she hoped they would consider coming over more than once.

Crying started up from the direction of the bathroom followed by Scottish murmuring and shushing. Belle started the pasta in the now boiling water. Careful not to burn herself, she let the steam whisper around her face with her eyes closed. It was soothing even in summer. Main summers simply never got as hot as what she remembered from the Australian ones of her early childhood.

She heard his footsteps and he tap of his cane. Brandon's fussing grew in a steady crescendo as he approached.

"There's my big boy, dinner's all ready and everything." Everything sounded so much less mundane in Scottish. Damn Regina for being right.

And damn Regina because she could not simply build a friendship with this man and his baby as if they were not political pawns. Steeling herself, Belle decided she could enjoy this one evening with him and pretend it would not be the only one she would ever get.

Tomorrow the town would do what it always did and the next time she saw him, he would look at her from beneath a furrowed brow with suspicious eyes. Tonight though, she could just be Belle.

Mr. Gold tested the temperature of the bottle with one hand while he gently swayed his fussing son under his other arm. Apparently he could stand well enough without his cane for that much at least. The bottle met with his satisfaction for he sat down without further ado to feed his eager baby. After an initial slurping noise, Brandon ate surprisingly quietly.

His father, however, hummed to him and Belle made a second effort of the evening not to cry in sheer frustration. Could he not have done her the courtesy of being at least thirty? And could the town just for once look at Belle and see something other than her father's spectral hand?

Belle tested the pasta, too hot on her tongue, and she sucked air in rapidly around the perfectly done spiral.

But Brandon had only just begun his meal and that meant his father would yet again have a cold dinner. Belle sighed, nothing for it. Either over cooked everything or cold everything. She dished up.

It got worse from there.

Belle set their pasta bowls in front of them and went to pick up her fork before she looked at Mr. Gold who was looking longingly, appreciatively, at this steaming food before him. Both his hands were occupied. That meant she could not eat either or she would be impardonably rude. Belle considered her dilemma as she grated the fresh rosemary and cracked pepper parmesan cheese over her own portion and then, to buy herself some time, offered to do the same for him.

He nodded vigorously, "It smells amazing Belle, thank you."

He smiled at her then returned his attention to Brandon on his lap.

Silence fell and then Mr. Gold blinked and looked up at her, "You really should eat before it gets cold. I would hate for you to miss out on your efforts while it's best on our account."

A thought struck her then, one she should definitely not pursue, "Cameron, I am acutely aware we have only just met and of the awkwardness of this suggestion, but I could," Belle swallowed for courage, "I could probably give you a bite or two so you don't starve while Brandon finishes up."

Mr. Gold stared at her in shock, then he flushed but nodded, smiling awkwardly at her, "I, uh, yes. That would maybe even be a little bit fun."

He should not have said that! Belle's poor brain went into overdrive at the suggestion that he would enjoy it. But it was way too late to back out now and one of the three people in the room was a grown woman nearly to middle age. So the grown woman picked up her plate, smiled saucily at her dinner companion and moved to sit in the chair beside him instead of across the table.

Mr. Gold shifted so that Brandon, content with his bottle, was between them and he could face her. His eyes were so dark.

"You ready for this, Cameron? After all, the actual food doesn't have a chance at living up to the hype." Her cheeky grin could not hide the salacious undercurrent, and his eyes, fixed on hers, were so very, very dark.

"I think you made the suggestion just to tease me. Please do put me out of my misery and prove me wrong."

How he could not hear her heart thudding in her chest she did not know, but Belle stabbed a spiral and scooped a bit of sauce. His eyes had finally left her face and now fixated on the laden fork. Belle approached his lips, he parted them, closed his eyes and accepted the bite from her.

She withdrew the fork slowly when his lips closed around it and searched his face. Hopefully it was edible, after all.

He chewed, blew a breath out through his nose and then swallowed.

Two intense eyes of melted chocolate locked onto hers. She stopped breathing and helplessly stared back.

"Ms. French, we do not know each other well enough for you to be putting things that tasty into my mouth," he rumbled at her. 

Then he smirked.

And she smirked and then she giggled, "No, Mr. Gold, you are quite correct, how inappropriate of me."

He had a wonderful smile. It lit up his face with his laughter and she joined him.

Brandon let go of his bottle with a tiny cough and Mr. Gold sat him up immediately for burping as their chuckles subsided.

"I'm relieved you have a sense of humor, Belle."

"And I'm relieved you're still in my kitchen after sampling my cooking."

"So do I get any more, or was that a one time offer?" He was focused on the baby sitting upright in his lap. Sure hands rubbed up and down the baby's spine alternating with pats.

Belle wanted to kiss him. And she really, really should not do that.

Instead she said insolently, "I get a bit first, then we'll see."

She took two bites while Mr. Gold resettled Brandon to resume his feed after a burp.

"Ready?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Always."

The three ate in an oddly comfortable silence through most of the meal. Brandon's enthusiasm for his bottle tapered off gradually and by the time his father burped him once again, his eyes were closed and he was relaxed in his father's arms.

Belle had made more progress on her own meal than Mr. Gold had on his and decided to dig up some courage for what she really wanted.

"May I?" Her murmur brought his eyes up to meet hers and she tentatively reached toward Brandon, "Your food's not yet reached refrigerator temperature."

Mr. Gold smiled and then slowly transferred Brandon, and a burp cloth, to her still suit jacketed shoulder. The baby did not stir and Belle reveled in his comforting weight slumbering against her body.

Mr. Gold went after the remainder of his pasta with gusto.

"What's the one thing you've always dreamed of doing with a library?"

"I only get one?" Mr. Gold spoke around his mouthful. He swallowed, then continued, "I've found that in the age of the internet, libraries are used by children, college students, and the poor. It seems a shame that anyone who can just buy what they want on the internet sees libraries as not for them. I think a library could be a central part of the community if it offered the right resources. An auditorium for example. What if community theatre groups had a place to perform? If the local hospital could offer health and wellbeing workshops. What about a historical film club? If authors had a free place to offer book signings and readings?"

Belle wondered how he could possibly be real.

She simply said, "Ok."

"What?" Mr. Gold turned sideways in his chair to fully face her, "Ok? What do you mean, ok?"

"I would be more than thrilled to build you an auditorium. Ok. I assure you my motives are purely selfish. Storybrooke is too small to have its own movie theater so everyone has to drive an hour if they want to see a film on a screen bigger than what they can manage in their own living rooms. Children's theater is limited to the summer months because there are no indoor auditorium's aside from city hall and the school. The demand for public meeting space is so high that those are always in use. Lots of smaller creative projects around town fail because of a lack of affordable meeting space. So, I love the idea. I'll build you an auditorium for your library."

Mr. Gold had to take off his glasses and rub his wet eyes. He choked softly but said nothing.

Belle began to rock Brandon as a way to take her attention away from the silence. It was not as if renovations had not been a part of the proposal. It was only her agreement to fund the updates to the facility that had finally gotten Regina to cave in and agree at all. Belle just wanted a library and for nearly three decades, the city had been completely unable to come up with the funds to reopen and run a library. The collapse of the fishing industry and subsequent closure of the cannery had been a severe economic blow, one her father had capitalized upon with his unethical money lending practices and lack of basic building maintenance.

Indeed, with the shuttering of the cannery, city tax revenue dried up overnight and Storybrooke struggled to keep the lights on. Since her father's death, Belle had slowly and judiciously invested in the tourist industry and so the town had begun to revive. Of course no one saw past her status as her father's heir and her refusing small business loans because their business plans lacked any path to solvency made her no more popular than enforcing the terms of agreements made, including leases an loans. Belle was no fool and would not fund magical thinking.

Landlady was among the select group of universally reviled titles a person could have. No matter what, no matter how consistent or fair, someone always thought they should merit an exception to the rules and the person who said no would forever be the villain.

Mr. Gold had dried his eyes and was now giving her an appraising look. "I think I'd like to hear how you came to own a town now and how you can just agree to fund the construction of an auditorium because a dreamer asked for it."

Here it comes, Belle thought, the end of congeniality between them. He would ask for his baby in about three sentences. If she got a forth sentence before he left the house she would be shocked.

Bandaid: quick is less painful.

"Very well," Belle began cautiously, "I inherited it from my father." One sentence, one frown from Mr. Gold. "He squeezed this town for every penny he could." Two sentences, his brow furrowed deeper. "I left college after he drank himself to death to manage his affairs and I could never go back."

Belle stopped talking and curled around Brandon trying to delay the inevitable. But Mr. Gold made no move to take the baby and leave, he was quiet, frowning, but quiet.

So, soothing herself by resting her cheek in Brandon's hair, Belle continued, "Though I fired my father's goon squad, I had to hire one of my own because his lending practices put me into contact with Storybrooke's most desperate. And least law abiding."

She dared to meet his eyes, certain he would bolt any moment.

Still, there he sat, "That sounds like a huge burden, and I thought having Brandon was a lot to handle at this point in my life."

What? Belle blinked at him. He had not fled the premises like it was on fire. She told him she had a goon squad and she still was being allowed to cuddle his child. Completely unexpected. And wait. Had he just offered, what was that, sympathy? No one in Storybrooke had ever offered her that! wealthy family like hers, owner of a town, sympathy had never, ever come her direction.

"Uh," Belle flailed around in her head for where best to go next since all was not apparently lost, "Yes, I was twenty at the time and had only just begun to pay my own bills let alone run a virtual duchy. Papa had only shown me the surface details of his business and he tried to spare me from the unpleasantness of his less than above board dealings, which was no service at the time because I suddenly had agreements I had to honor which I found abhorrent. I had to collect on loans and repossess property because if I didn't, I would be in breech of contract in other ways. It was the worst nightmare I could have ever imagined. It took me years just to solve the code violations for buildings I owned. All the while hoping no one came to inspect. I was facing jail at the hands of my father."

"And yet you now have the capital to just offer up an auditorium?" Here it comes. "I'm not certain I want blood money."

He took Brandon from her.

Belle hoped he did not hear her breath hitch.

"Would it make any difference at all to you if I told you I have spent the last twenty years turning the Storybrooke property market into a legal and supportive asset to the community?"

Mr. Gold buckled Brandon into his little front carrier and rose to his feet, "Your empire remains built on the backs of the poor. Regina tells me that the shelter is packed with the unemployed and that she wants me to develop a job skills and training program. If you are such an asset, why would you offer me an auditorium with such an undue burden of homelessness plaguing the community?"

"So I am now solely responsible for climate change, the collapse of the marine ecosystem, and subsequent job losses? Who do you think is funding the materials and facility you need for your jobs programs?" Belle stood, feeling the familiar ice of rejection cooling her veins.

"You are responsible for choosing to remain wealthy."

"Running a successful business is a moral outrage now, I see." Belle lived comfortably, but retirement aside, most of her financial power came from running her properties efficiently and investing wisely. Contrary to his perception, she did not have a room full of gold coins to roll around in, she did not go on extravagant vacations, she did not own six yachts or even so much as a modern sports car. She drove her father's Cadillac and lived in her father's house. Belle had never even purchased anything more extravagant than a new mattress. Suits aside.

But she would be damned if she was going to drag her bank statements out to show him. Belle had made herself comfortable, that was true, but whatever else came in went back out in the form of community investments. He would never understand the concept of the rainy day fund which she maintained in the case of catastrophic property damage. He was just too young, too idealistic and too ignorant to see the difference between a responsible business owner and a rich community extortionist. Her father had been the latter. She was the former and she knew it.

"Living large on the backs of the poor is a moral outrage. And if what happened in the diner this afternoon is any indication, I'd say the town considers your rule no better than your father's."

That was that and Belle knew it. She should never had made that deal with him, but hope just refused to die. Belle had made more mistakes in the name of hope than from any other impulse she had ever had.

"You are too young to see the difference and the town only remembers the past. I should not have expected otherwise." She swallowed but met his gaze with a level one of her own, "I made my deal with you, Mr. Gold, to my clear disadvantage and against my better judgement. Do consider that while you are judging me. And you owe me a story."

He retrieved his bag and headed for the door. Belle followed and opened it for him.

"I always honor my agreements, Mr. Gold. Can the same be said for you?"

The bonny young Scotsman gave her a cold stare, "You can collect when you come for the rent."

And he was gone into the night.

Belle slammed the door as hard as she could. For some indiscernible reason, the stained glass did not shatter. But Brandon did squawk in alarm. She felt a pang about that, then she wrenched the door back open.

He had reached the bottom of the steps and was hushing Brandon.

Belle yelled out into the neighborhood, "Would salad have made a difference?"

"What?" Mr. Gold turned around to face her again.

"I promised you greens and I forgot about them. Since I missed perfection in your character assessment, would it have made any difference if I'd put greens on the plate?" Belle glared at him, hands on her hips.

"What do you care what I think of you? A naive and stupid kid in your estimation? What could you possibly gain from my approbation? You have everything you need and an empire to boot. An empire you built on the struggles of people like me." Mr. Gold snarled all but clutching his son in front of him.

"You might be surprised, Mr. Gold, at what I don't have." She should not have said that, but maybe he would be too angry to notice. "I asked you earlier today if you were the kind of man to make up his own mind about people. Now I have the answer." Belle began to go back inside but then turned back to him, "You're just like everyone else, convicting me in the court of public opinion without all the facts because stretching your worldview even a hair outside your preconceived notions is just too much work. Intellectual laziness does not become you. I doubt even showing you my bank statements would change your rigid mind. Why I even dared think otherwise is beyond me."

Mr. Gold slowly shook his head, his mouth open. He did not say anything though and as he turned to go, she hissed after him, "And you'll get your damned auditorium because I said you would. And it'll be named in honor of my mother."

Belle stomped inside and slammed the door again. She was sweating under the pressure of her rage. But then she remembered something else. This time when she stuck her head out the door to bellow he had made it as far as the street, "And your fucking furniture! Because I keep my word!"

He did not even look at her but leaned heavily on his cane walking back toward his house.

Belle closed the door quietly this time, her anger spent. Utterly wrung out, she slid her backside down the door to the floor and sat there.

Good thing she did not desperately need a pawn at this juncture because she did not have one now due to her own complete incompetence. She had mishandled him from moment one. She knew better than every idiotic thing she had said and done in the space of half a day. So why had any of it happened?

Oh yes, a pretty face and a nice rear had thrown her for a loop. And that accent. And his damned cute kid and his love of books and the tiny spark of hope that he might be different. That he might see her as something other than an evil loan shark.

Regina had soundly won this round. She had capitalized on Belle's only weakness: her total separation from the world of regular people. And Belle had fallen for it like the world's newest chess player. It would not happen again though.

And she had still won her library. None of today's hot mess would negate that victory.

But that hot mess in the form of a BYS had thrown her for a loop without a single doubt.


	5. Chapter 5

Cameron lay stretched out on the floor beside his sleeping baby. He had just signed a lease with a monster. No wonder Regina had offered him the apartment above the library. Belle was perhaps the strangest person he had ever met. A quandary. And he would be her neighbor for the next year because he could not afford to break his lease.

Why had he ignored the reaction in the diner? The direct warning offered by the waitress?

He knew why. A pretty face was kind to him when he needed it most. He felt like such a fool.

There was no way anyone would be that nice without a motive.

His instincts about Belle had been wrong, her quick wit and love of literature did not preclude sociopathy, or at the very least mundane human greed. Straight up greed was the much more likely explanation for her behavior. She wanted something from him and having heard about her empire, politics were a safe bet. She was most likely Regina's rival.

He sighed loudly in the empty room. Running from his troubles had only smashed him headlong into new ones.

And he had thought of kissing her. How pathetic. The first person since Melissa to smile at him and be kind and he was already well on his way to making another Brandon. This thinking with his smaller head had to stop. Once should have been enough to teach him. Not that he did not love the little bug next to him with every fiber of his being, he did, but Cameron was determined not to be the kind of moron that left a trail of babies behind him.

And what was that about salad? Some serious derangement lived behind those brilliant blue eyes for her to yell out her door about salad.

Something did not quite add up though and he did not know what.

Cameron closed his eyes and saw the softness in her gaze after she had told him of her mother and her love of books. That she had funded a library because she loved to read.

He reopened them to stare at the ceiling in irritation. What had he been thinking, letting her feed him? With his infant son on his lap, his groin had stirred to life and she, unfortunately, was an excellent cook.

How could he have felt so instantly connected, so close, with someone like her? Of course Melissa was no shining example of his judgment either, but being that painfully wrong twice in quick succession did nothing for his ego. It did not inspire him to trust his taste in women. Though now, that hardly mattered. With Brandon, he was unlikely to have much time for dating. His love would be his child and he would be the devoted parent his own father never had been.

He drifted off in such discontented thoughts.

The next afternoon it was the mayor who interrupted his cleaning efforts to take him to lunch.

With no real choice in the matter, she was his boss after all, Cameron hoped this would go better than his last welcome lunch had.

The diner hummed with its crowd of patrons and Regina took him to the far end of the bar. She recommended the lasagna which had nothing on the hamburger he had tried yesterday. Cameron had to hide his dismay facing the mayor's obvious enjoyment of the barely mediocre, pale imitation of Italian cuisine. If this could even be called that.

Thankfully, Brandon had woken up to feed just before her arrival and remained contentedly asleep on his father's chest. No repeat of the scene yesterday.

Also, to his great relief, the mayor required little of her conversation partner as she spent the majority of their meal giving him a town history lesson and discussing her very successful public works projects. She assured him she was exquisitely pleased to reopen the library after such a long time. Regina seemed to want him to believe the whole thing had been a way to pull something over on Belle, get her to fund what the city could not. An epic coup if the glint in Regina's eyes could be believed.

Cameron's unease grew just a moment later.

"There's a city council meeting tomorrow night. You should come. I think you'd find it very interesting." Regina's fork dangled from her hand and she looked at him intently.

Did he dare refuse? How could he gracefully get out of it?

"I'm certain it would be, but, Madame Mayor, Brandon starts daycare tomorrow and I can't bare the thought of losing any more time with my son since he won't be with me during the day anymore. Can you believe how fast they grow up? He's changing all the time and I find I don't want to miss a single second." Appeal to her as a parent, that should do it.

"Ah, well maybe next time then, when you're both more comfortably settled in. How do you like the neighborhood so far? Speaking of which?" 

There was definitely something wrong with this town. Little American towns were supposed to be sleepy and slow paced, were they not? Fabricated from whole cloth, that myth.

"The house is unbelievably nice for the rent and I think Brandon and I will be hard pressed to fill the space with our simple lifestyle. I suspect our modest means will be a bit of a let down to the neighborhood." Was that too edgy a tone to use on his boss?

Regina did not seem to notice, "Nonsense! You'll fit right in." Then she leaned toward him conspiratorially, "But do let me know if your neighbor gives you any trouble. She seems to keep to herself, but she has her fingers in everything."

Cameron did not know what to say to that. "Somehow I doubt I'll have much reason to cross paths with Ms. French, we inhabit such different worlds."

"Really, Mr. Gold? You have a library and she is addicted to reading, or didn't she tell you?"

The face of an alien admiral appeared in his mind: it's a trap!

"Ms. French cordially welcomed me to town, but I am sure I can't know all that much about her having only met her yesterday." Cameron decided to nibble at the bait and see if he could get away without a hook through the lip. "Is there something I should be aware of?"

Regina gave a cold little smile, "The French family has cast a long shadow over this town and Belle French is very much a part of that. Don't break an agreement with her, since I know it's already too late to warn you against making one in the first place. I do apologize for that, by the way, I should have warned you during our interview, but she moves quickly."

"Madame Mayor, with all due respect, I have no wish to find myself in the middle of town politics. I'm a librarian and a father who just wants to help people, not a politician." Cameron used the most polite intonation he could muster while still making himself plain.

"You'll find out very quickly that this has less to do with politics and more to do with that woman's strangle hold on this town. Not much happens here unless she approves it. As mayor you can imagine what a big job it is just to run a city even without a tycoon like French screening every business that comes to town and turning down local entrepreneurs that don't fit her vision because she owns the vast majority of the property. It pains my ego to admit this to you, but I am definitely the underdog. Fighting for the citizens of Storybrooke is worth it though. As long as I can keep her somewhat contained, the town has a chance to flourish." Regina gave him a brilliant smile, politician perfect.

"I appreciate your candor, Madame Mayor, and I assure you I will take it to heart. My intentions are to run the best library I can for Storybrooke that serves all of Storybrooke and not just the interests of a few." That might have been too pointed as Regina's smile turned wolffish.

"I like you already, Mr. Gold."

That evening his awkward day became even more so.

An unbelievably tall man leaned against an old but not rusty brown Ford pick-up truck with his arms folded. Cameron's lawn was festooned with furniture. He stopped at the corner to sigh and decide how to handle this before the man saw him. Ms. French had mentioned a goon squad and this fellow was likely all she needed.

The furniture was more eclectic than he had expected. Some of it was clearly modern, even new looking, a leather armchair for example. Other pieces looked like beautiful antiques. It also looked like more than would easily fit in the back corner of the shop he could see across the street from the windows of his library. The woman wanted something. Wanted it very badly and he wanted nothing to do with such an arrangement.

Of course, Regina wanted something very badly too, even if she was a bit more direct about it.

What to do.

He had no idea. Would the huge man arrange to take the furniture away if Cameron refused it? What if something got damaged? Brandon was a baby, of course he would stain something. Ms. French could make his life a living hell if she wanted to.

Was she mafia?

Cameron felt sweat begin to soak through the light weight fabric of his shirt. Brandon began to fuss.

He sighed and walked toward his house. If the strange and temperamental Ms. French was mob, it was already too late for him. All he could do was as Regina had suggested, make no further contracts with the baroness of Storybrooke.

"Mr. Gold, I presume?" The giant was definitely a tenor with that voice. Such a high and lyrical tone did not match his physique at all.

Cameron stared wide eyed up, and up, at the man before remembering his manners and answering, "Yes, do you work for Ms. French? Our arrangement was for me to come by the shop if I wished to borrow her furniture."

The letter of the agreement. That was his only chance.

"Ms. French sends her regrets that she could not be here herself, but she has asked me to inform you that the furniture is not a loan, but a gift. She further wishes me to convey that she apologizes for cursing in front of your son and to assure you it will not happen again. Now that you are here, I will call the movers to put your furniture wherever you wish. They will be here in fifteen minutes." 

Could this possibly get any weirder? Never mind, Cameron did not want to entertain the possibilities. Definitely mob. Between her discussion of keeping agreements, the town's general terror of the tiny woman and now this, her goon squad on call, Cameron knew he had just rented a house next to the Don of Storybrooke and owed her rent for the next year.

He was in trouble.

He had fled Glasgow for a fresh start, and landed hip deep in a pile of cow shite.

Cameron wished, not for the first time, that he had had actual decent and loving parents instead of the drunken excuse for a man his father turned out to be. A normal twenty-four year old could call his parents for advice when faced with this situation. If he called Malcolm Gold now, he would get asked for money and told what a horrible son and rotten person he had grown up to be in the same sentence. 

The huge man had not bothered for consent or even acknowledgement before he was murmuring into his cellphone and giving the address.

Cameron did not even look at the furniture on his way to the front door.

He leaned against it once inside trying not to panic. He needed to find someone in this town who was neither in the mayor's pocket nor well connected, as it were. He suspected that list, if it existed, was very, very short.

Thirty minutes later he had a bed in the master bedroom, a functional living room, a dining room table with chairs and most miraculous of all, a crib in Brandon's room, new by the looks of it.

He checked the crib thoroughly for any kind of defect or fault that would pose a danger to Brandon but found absolutely nothing wrong with it. Not so much as a scratch in the wood.

"Well son, this is not the life I had planned for us, but as we are now indebted to the godmother of Storybrooke, or maybe all of Maine for all I know, we may as well use the perks before we wind up with cement shoes." Cameron could not keep his voice from shaking, but he lay Brandon down in the crib and swaddled him for sleep. It was a nice crib.

Famous words echoed in his head, "Someday, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me, but until that day, accept this ... as a gift..."


	6. Chapter 6

Every day for the next month Cameron expected Ms. French to show up on his doorstep or at the library with her demands. With an offer he could not refuse. And every day, he did not see her. Except her retreating back as she entered her shop across the street or as she walked up the steps to her home.

What bizarre game was she playing?

Her henchman came to collect the rent, not her, so he had been unable to pay his debt: his story. It made him very uncomfortable.

Aside from the periodic non-optional lunches with Regina, and occasionally her very handsy sister Zelena, the town did seem very quiet. He had met the sheriff, a woman named Emma who was fairly new in town herself. No one talked about the strange lone she-wolf of a landlady in the diner and he did not bring her up in conversation. Ruby had asked him out weekly and always gave him a relaxed smile when he turned her down. Dr. Hopper, the town shrink, was a nice enough man and asked politely after how Cameron and Brandon were settling in and if they needed anything.

His new adult salary had allowed him to purchase an old jeep in good running order. Its only fault was the streaks of red spray paint. Someone had graffitied the car and while most of it had been scrubbed off, bits still clung stubbornly to the driver's side door. He wondered about the story behind that.

All in all, life was looking up. Brandon was doing well. He smiled a lot at every one and had begun to leak drool like a neglected faucet. There were even a few nights recently which he had slept straight through. Cameron sincerely hoped this would become a pattern sooner than later.

And yet the specter of Belle French haunted him. He owed her and she had not created the conditions necessary for him to pay up. Almost like she wanted him to come to her.

He knew that day would come and so did she. Like a spider, she waited for him.

Even knowing himself to be the fly, he could avoid her no longer. His book requisition had been finished for three days and approved by Regina yesterday. Not that he had to give Regina any say on the matter, but anything to delay having to go to Ms. French and ask for money.

If only it would stop there, but it would not. This requisition was but the first step of many toward the rejuvenation of his library. These updates were the bare minimum needed to make the library relevant to its patrons. And still, that was almost thirty years' worth of material. He could not believe the library had remained closed that long.

Once he was able to open the library and begin offering services, he would begin assessing the needs of the town which would dictate the priority of the renovations. And he had no doubt he would not escape an auditorium named after the late Mrs. French. All of that meant close consultation with Ms. Belle French.

She had him where she wanted him and he knew it.

Nothing for it, he supposed.

Cameron straightened his tie and brushed lint from the trouser leg of his new work suit. He would be damned if he allowed Ms. French to stare any further down her rich nose at him than was unavoidable, though his income would never let him come near the hand tailored clothes she wore. Not that he aspired to such.

He gripped the handle of his cane and set off across the street.

A bell chimed above his head when he entered her shop. Belle's Antiquities was also a pawn shop and the headquarters for her property management, but he had never seen anyone go there for any reason other than to pay the proprietor for a debt owed. She must do most of her antiques dealing online.

He found the interior of the shop surprisingly cozy though classy and educated taste seeped from its every pore. If shops had pores, which they did not. No matter, while he had meant to do nothing but walk in and deliver his requisition to Ms. French, he found himself arrested by the obvious competence of the collection. Belle French knew something of history and he did not see a single knickknack or kitschy curio anywhere. Every item was carefully arranged and had been selected with care and attention. Little plaques with the provenance of each item drew him in and soon he was browsing and reading with interest.

Cameron loved history and research. Clearly, so did Ms. French. His envelope forgotten on a glass counter top, Cameron had been unable to stop himself from approaching a beautiful old spinning wheel and giving it a spin. In perfect condition. Some of his few good childhood memories were of his aunts and learning to spin when he stayed with them at their highland croft for he better part of a year while his father had been undergoing involuntary rehab and detoxification.

"It's wonderful to see you, Mr. Gold." Ms. French said softly from across the room. 

He jumped out of his skin in spite of himself and whirled around to face her.

She frowned and looked at her hands where they rested on the counter next to a huge silvery cash register. "It seems I can't help but frighten you, though it is not my intention." She looked back up to meet his eyes with a small resigned smile on her face, "You like the spinning wheel, I see. Do you know how to spin?"

"I do, actually," he admitted to both assertions.

"Just a moment, please."

She swept aside a curtain separating the main shop from whatever business she carried out in the back. Cameron wanted to leave, but he knew he had to get her to sign off on the requisition. So he waited.

She did not keep him waiting more than a minute and a half before she came through the parted curtain carrying a basket of what appeared to be wool roving.

"Would you show me?" She held out the basket to him. Why did she look so hopeful? That resignation was still there in her mien, but her blue gaze was soft, non-threatening.

He should refuse, and yet.

Cameron nodded and took the basket of un-dyed wool from her. She brought a stool to sit beside the wheel and watched him curiously while he retrieved the leader thread through the orifice, drafted, and began to spin. The wheel made a gentle creaking noise and the wool felt so soft in his fingers. He made a few mistakes at first, it had been years since he had last spun, but soon enough a lovely even thread began to fill the bobbin. He had spent hours spinning to forget his father's abandonment of him in favor of the bottle and his conditioned mind relaxed into the rhythm of the work without his meaning for that to happen.

He did not spin through the entire basket, rather he left the roving falling in a long tail from the orifice about halfway through.

"I should not use all of this, but thank you for letting me spin. It has been a long time." Cameron would not let go of his manners even if all he wanted was to be out of this shop and away from the scary queen-pin of Storybrooke.

Not that she looked particularly frightening now, though.

She looked openly melancholy. He could not make sense of this strange and tiny woman.

"That's quite alright, Mr. Gold, you can spin as much as you wish." She paused, "I'm very glad to see you, tell me, are you comfortable now that you've had some time to settle in?"

Did she think this was some kind of social call? That he had come by for a chat? Last they had spoken he had called her immorally rich and stormed out of her house. Stranger and stranger. What was she playing at?

Cameron ran his hands down the soft length of the roving to soothe his nerves, "I am enjoying my work and have found the town friendly and helpful." He could say that much, he supposed. "I came by to bring you the book requisition for your approval."

Putting space between them felt better when he retreated from the spinning wheel to retrieve the paperwork.

"Ah, of course, Mr. Gold." She extended a delicate hand to accept it from him. "I will have this back to you in two days."

Cameron found himself meeting her muted gaze and frowning. "Is something bothering you, Ms. French? Is there something the matter?"

Why on earth had he asked that? All he had to do was say his goodbyes and walk right out the door. But no, he was too curious for his own good. Still trying to figure her out instead of just running for safety as far from her as he could get.

"Oh, uh. It's nothing to trouble yourself over. Just, life, you know?" Her eyes fell back to the spinning wheel and she reached out to stroke the roving herself.

He did not think she was putting on a show for his benefit. He had seen that kind of pain in the mirror often enough. Something was really not right here. "Do you," he hesitated unable to believe he was about to do this, "do you need anything?"

Her lip quirked up a tiny bit before falling again, "Oh Mr. Gold, everyone needs things, but I would not trespass when you were more than clear about where you stand." She walked past him not meeting his eyes, "Please excuse me, I need to get this ready for you and I have other pressing concerns. Have a pleasant day, Mr. Gold."

She disappeared through the curtain.

Cameron was alone in the shop staring after its owner.

What was going on?

With a last look at the spinning wheel, Cameron left the shop. Did Ms. French ever show real emotion or was she just baiting him like the mayor seemed to enjoy doing? Was it possible that he was overlooking something about her? What difference would it make if that were the case?

Being honest with himself was uncomfortable to say the least, but he had genuinely liked her, enough to want to kiss her and more during their dinner in her home. Up to the point of realizing that she was part of the extortionist elite, he had found a sparkling intellect and a kind warmth in those blue eyes. Now sadness pervaded her face like too much makeup.

Would the real Belle French please stand up?

Again, though, whether Belle French was some kind of living tragedy wrapped up in a brilliant mind beneath a layer of beastly fangs and fur or just run of the mill greedy landlady did not matter. He still owed her the rent for the next year and his story. Why had he not insisted on depositing his story in her shop like he had the paperwork?

He had nothing in particular to fear in telling her about himself as his personal drama was no more interesting than anyone else's. Maybe a little sadder than most, but downtrodden folks just trying to get by were a dime a dozen.

Cameron pushed Ms. French from his mind for the next two days.

It was late afternoon two days after his visit to the pawn shop disguised as a museum before he saw her again. Mid July heat suffused his library enhancing the smell of old paper and he had nearly finished for the day. Brandon would be waiting for him in half an hour.

But there she was in the square of sunlight created by the open door. Cameron forgot to feel trepidation for a moment looking at her. His inner feminist rebelled because he thought she was lovely to look at. As if it was not acceptable for him to notice this, lest he decide that her looks were a measure of her value. Her appearance pleased him and he found her attractive, nearly twice his age or not. He could not hide from that fact.

But her face. Again, she appeared somber. Maybe she had some sort of depression. All the money in the world could buy neither health nor happiness. She was meeting his eyes and they had gone too long without speaking some sort of customary greeting.

It was his establishment and therefore his responsibility to greet her courteously.

"Ms. French, good afternoon. Won't you come in?" Cameron came out from behind the circulation desk gesturing for her to enter.

She did. "Good afternoon indeed, Mr. Gold. You have certainly made good progress. Seeing this brings back so many memories. Ah, but never mind that. I have signed your requisition and made a few additions of my own. I think you will need to have your computer system up and running before we can build the computer lab you need, so I have ordered ten for you. And a modern copier. It will print, fax, and scan as well."

Ms. French held out his envelope for him to reclaim while she looked him right in the eye.

He got caught up in staring which delayed his accepting the documents. Perhaps her expression would have been neutral to anyone else, but to him it looked like an immobile mask over heartbreak. He could stand it no longer.

"May I offer you some tea, Ms. French? I made some iced at home and brought it in for the warm afternoon." Cameron knew he should just leave this alone, but there was a mystery here to be uncovered.

Ms. French's eyes lit up like the recent Forth of July fireworks display he and Brandon had attended. She opened her mouth looking very much like she would accept his offer, but then she blinked rapidly and the mask hardened over her features again, "Thank you for the offer, Mr. Gold, but I have business to attend to. Perhaps another time." It sounded like she did not mean the last part. Then she turned on her heel and walked back to the front doors. "Oh, please let me know when you have had a chance to settle the new collection or if you need IT help with the computers in the mean time. The sooner you can open the better. After that, we can discuss plans for the remodel."

Then she was gone and Cameron was none the wiser as to the source of Ms. French's despair.

Another two weeks went by before he saw her again.

It was early morning and Brandon was kicking his feet while he mouthed at the fabric of the front carrier as they exited Granny's. Gold had a chocolate stuffed croissant waiting for him in the paper bag he gripped with his cane hand and hot water for Brandon's bottle in his other hand. He almost fell down the few steps when he saw the flashing lights of a tow truck across the street and the shouting reached his ears.

There, accompanied by her goon squad of one, the hulking man he had met previously, was Belle French. Neatly composed and speaking calmly, she replied to the accented tirade of the bakery owner while the tow truck operator carried out his work.

Brandon let out little huffs which Cameron thought were a precursor to a real laugh. He kissed the top of his little head and made his way carefully down the steps and to an outside table to eat and watch.

Maybe he was about to uncover a little of the mystery that was Belle French.

"Mr. Kolas, the terms of the loan are very specific. I do not subsidize your gambling addiction. In fact, one of the stipulations of the loan, which you signed in the presence of a lawyer who made certain you understood what you were signing, was that you attend sessions regularly with Dr. Hopper to address your illness. There are provisos for missing a session due to illness or emergency which Dr. Hopper informs me you have far exceeded. You have not been to therapy in a month. Further, you used your one grace period of two weeks for late payment last month and still have not paid. You are now a full two months behind the payment schedule. I was within my rights to collect the collateral four weeks ago, but I chose not to in hopes that you would turn this around. You have left me with no choice but to collect the full amount now or your collateral. What is your choice?" Ms. French spoke loudly, slowly and clearly to the sweating man in front of her which meant Cameron could hear every word she said.

"You heartless bitch! You just want my business to fail so you can rent the property to someone else! You've been trying to destroy me for years! I won't stand for it! You have no right to do this! I'm calling the police!" Mr. Kolas the baker's face resembled a tomato and his tears mingled with sweat making him glisten in the morning light.

Ms. French remained calm in face of the onslaught, "You may absolutely call the police if you wish. I have the agreement you signed right here and she can see both my signature and that of the lawyer. My actions are entirely legal. Do you have the money?"

"It's a conspiracy! You're in on it together! Everyone knows you own the whole town so you own the police too. I'm being coerced by your mob! Don't just stare, do something you cowards! It'll be you she comes for next! I outta call the feds! See how long you last once the IRS gets ahold of you!" Mr. Kolas was jabbing a pudgy finger in Ms. French's face until the huge man interjected himself between the two.

Mr. Kolas stumbled back in fear, then dug out his cellphone and began dialing. "Hello? Is this the police? I need help. I'm outside the bakery on Main. My delivery van is being stolen and I'm being extorted and threatened by thugs!"

Cameron could see Belle push out a deep breath from across the street. The tow truck guy kept hooking up his chains and cables.

Brandon began to fuss. Cameron had forgotten to warm his bottle. "So sorry, son, let papa get it warm for you. Just be a wee bit patient!"

He patted Brandon to distract him while he fished out the prepared bottle and got it into the hot water.

Seconds later lights and sirens squealed around the corner in across from the library. Emma screeched to a halt and piled out of her vehicle. She saw Ms. French, her huge body guard, the tow truck and groaned. Her eye roll could have been seen from outer-space.

"Mr. Kolas," Emma called out as she approached the scene, "what seems to be the trouble this morning?"

"The bitch is trying to steal my van! I won't take it anymore! I need it to make deliveries! She has no right-!"

"As you well know, Mr. Kolas, I have every legal right as laid out clearly in this document which you signed. Good morning Sheriff, my apologies for the scene, but it seems Mr. Kolas is having trouble recollecting the terms of his loan." Ms. French handed Emma the document and pointed to a particular section.

"Do you have the money, Nick?" Emma had a hand on her hip.

"She's trying to destroy my business! She's been conspiring against me for years! Arrest her for extortion!"

"I'll take that as a no." Emma massaged her temples and turned her back on the scene for a moment to push out a massive sigh. She turned back, "Nick, your business cannot support your gambling habit and I saw you last night at the Rabbit Hole. You either need to learn how to play cards competently or quit gambling. You'd have had the money this morning if you hadn't lost it last night. Dr. Hopper's office is literally right next door. I'm certain he can find an opening for you today if not right now. I'll call him for you if you want. But right now, I need you to go inside your shop until you have pulled yourself together."

Seeing grown adults melt into weeping heaps was never easy. Especially after having been such a heap not long ago. Cameron looked away once Mr. Kolas began crawling toward the door of his shop totally defeated.

"I don't like it, French, but you are always precise with your arrangements." Emma handed the document back to Ms. French.

"No one likes land owners or money lenders. I am both. I am accustomed to being disliked. Sorry to disturb your morning, Miss Swan."

Two minutes later the street was completely vacant of police, loan sharks and delivery vans. The sobbing could be heard audibly in the sudden quiet.

Brandon began to cry too and his papa settled in to feed him. Cameron looked regretfully at the bag containing his cooling pastry.

The less he had to do with Ms. French the better. Regina was right.

Fifteen minutes later, Ms. French passed his table on her way into Granny's. Five minutes after that he was burping Brandon when she sat down across from him.

"So now you know," she said without preamble. "All the tables inside are taken."

She answered his questioning gaze before he could verbalized his thoughts. Cameron looked around the empty courtyard with many empty tables to choose from but said nothing as Brandon spit up a little into the burp cloth.

She broke the silence, "Do you want to break your lease and leave town? I can arrange that for you if you wish."

"What? Why would you do that?" Cameron sputtered, completely taken aback.

"Because I cannot imagine you want me for your next door neighbor or your business partner having had all the rumors confirmed before your very eyes." Her look was level, but he could tell she was shoving her sadness somewhere deep at the moment. This was the hard woman Regina had warned him about.

"Do you want me gone?" That was the only explanation he could fathom for her rather abrupt offer.

"Not at all, Mr. Gold. I simply do not see why you would stay, considering your opinion of me." Certainty and confidence.

"I don't think you'll break a deal, Ms. French. I may not end up liking my end of things, but I have every confidence you will live up to what you promise. What I don't understand is why my opinion matters so much to you. Is it you who does not want a business partner she doesn't own? Like your man over there?" Cameron gestured to where her goon had interceded between her and the distressed baker.

"Ah, no, I do not own Mr. Dove, he works for me because I pay fairly and am a good employer, nothing further. What I don't like is being wrongfully considered as suspect, as reprehensible. Just as anyone else might feel in such a circumstance, I imagine. So I am trying to figure out what is keeping you here because I have just offered you a way out of your repugnant lease and you are employed at will, without a contract. You clearly see me as a public menace, why continue to work with me when I am offering you the chance to walk away without penalty or reprisal?" She leaned back in her chair arms folded and then took a bite of a steaming chocolate stuffed croissant.

Positively unfair. His own had already congealed and hardened.

When he looked back at her, he knew she had followed his forlorn gaze to what had once been a lovely breakfast. The grief he had witnessed in her front hallway was back and for just a moment, he thought maybe she was very simply smarting from his rejection. But it could not possibly be that simple with a woman like her. It made no sense. They had flirted for perhaps half an hour total before the evening curdled into a rotten and stinking mess. Her expression would make more sense if he had ended a marriage after ten years. It had to be something else.

"I'll answer your question. But I want something in return."

"I'm listening." The deal maker was back.

"I want to know why you are in so much pain you can't hide it." He glued his gaze to hers unwilling to miss a single detail of her response.

She did not so much as flinch, but neither did she try to hide or change her dolorous expression. "No deal, Mr. Gold. The last time I told you of my pain, you judged me. Incorrectly, I might add, and I am no fool and will not make the same mistake again." Ms. French stood, putting her treat back in its bag unfinished. "My offer is genuine and remains open, indefinitely. If you want to leave, tell me and I will dissolve your lease."

Before he could get his mouth to quit gaping open and form words, she was gone and all that remained was the quick clicking of her shoes on the sidewalk.

A hell of a thing to say. She seemed much too old to be mortally offended by his assessment of her character. But she had told him bluntly and with no window dressing she found his opinions in error an hurtful.

He thought back on that miserable night. He had told her it was amoral to remain wealthy on the backs of the poor. He had all but quoted an internet meme at her. His declaration could not possibly be the first she had heard of the concept. Besides which, he had seldom found that the wealthy cared much for the opinions of the peons beneath their boot-heels. But his opinion had offended her.

That brought him back to the feeling of missing something, missing something like a black and white photograph. Color might not change what was present in the scene, but it always added depth of understanding and new information. He did see her in black and white, he realized. It was exactly that. There was more to Belle French than he knew and she had told him under no uncertain terms that he had wronged her.

Could she be correct about that? Cameron could not see how. He had only told her what was blatantly obvious and which, based on her very first sentence to him this morning, she already knew.

He blew out a breath and kissed his son's head. He felt like an arse, but he could not figure out why.


	7. Chapter 7

The library had a truly enormous basement. He had moved all the out of date materials down there to make room for his updates to the collection and had stared at the vastness of the room beneath Main Street. If this space could be upgraded beyond dank and musty, the town would have all the meeting space it could ever want. He needed a children's section, and a young adults' nook, but he could not bring himself to locate such reading spaces away from natural light. Belle, for that name came up in his mind now since their encounter at Granny's regardless of his efforts, would never consent to her auditorium being located in the basement when she could build a whole new wing instead.

Though Cameron himself had not yet decided how to utilize all of the space or more accurately, had not found the nerve to discuss his thoughts on the subject with his benefactor, it still surprised him when Belle strode into the library mid morning a few weeks after their last meeting with a general contractor in tow.

"Mr. Gold, I highly recommend you begin attending city council meetings as a great many things are decided there that affect your interests. This is Marco Wood, general contractor, and he will be in the basement today. Last night the council approved the moving of all archived and historical documents to the library from their current disordered state in city hall. City hall needs the space and lacks the resources to properly manage its documents. Citizen access is extremely limited and our history is inaccessible to our school children. The basement of the library will be converted into meeting rooms and the new Storybrooke Historical Reference Room where you will curate our town's proud history such that it is accessible to the community including our schools. And you might just learn something while you're at it." She turned away from him, having said all that without pause, before pointing toward the elevator and sending Marco down into the basement.

She turned back to him with her mouth open but he did not give her the chance, "It's a good thing I had already planned on converting that space into meeting rooms, but I do not appreciate not being given the opportunity for comment on the use of a facility for which I am responsible."

"I do believe you were invited to the city council meetings by the mayor herself and that you declined to attend due to family priorities. I don't fault your family values, Mr. Gold, but one meeting a month is not an egregious trespass on your time. If you wish to have input into the matters of this town, I suggest you show up for this town. Like I do." Belle left without entertaining another syllable from him.

Cameron seethed.

But he also showed up at the next meeting. With Brandon.

"Mr. Gold!" Regina positively beamed at him, "I am so glad you could join us! Please grab an agenda just there and we'll start in ten minutes."

Cameron took a seat near the back, in case Brandon fussed, and perused the agenda. Anger gave way to shock when Belle's motives became apparent.

The entire agenda consisted of proposals for new library programs to direct the renovations and remodeling. And he would not have been informed until after the fact if not for Belle's summons to the proceedings. Next to every item under presenter was Regina Mills. Regina had intended to dictate every last function of his library over his head and without so much as consulting him first.

Cameron scrambled for a pen and began scribbling his thoughts on the mayor's proposals, some good, some ridiculous, in the margins of the agenda. He needed to be prepared to comment and present in four minutes.

When he looked up as Regina called the meeting to order, Belle French was looking at him with a tiny smile on her lips. It was not a malicious smirk, but a satisfied one.

She had just done him one hell of a favor disguised as steamrolling over his territory. He owed her and he knew it.

He did not have time to wonder what Regina was up to before he needed to comment on the first item.

Cameron had sweated conspicuously through his shirt and jacket by the time the meeting drew to a close.

While the meeting had not been precisely crowded with citizenry, it was completely obvious that anyone who was anyone in Storybrooke attended these.

A crowd formed around him as soon as he stood up from his seat to leave.

Zelena wanted to be certain there would be a private room for explicit and erotic collections. A Mary Blanchard wanted dedicated classroom space complete with computers for college distance learning programs. Gus, the owner of the Marine Garage, wanted to ensure there would be audio and braille collections for his blind triplet brothers. Granny demanded that visual media be available for borrowing and handed him a list of movies which he had better include in the collection.

They formed a bloody queue and waited their turn for his attention.

Brandon began to cry then howl. No amount of rocking or shushing would obviate the need to change his messy diaper. Finally he raised his voice to be heard, "Would everyone I didn't have the chance to speak with tonight please come by the library with your needs between eight and five? I'm afraid he needs his Papa. Good night, everyone."

Cameron fled toward the men's room, but surprise, surprise, no changing table. So he called out into the ladies' room and had to wait while some affronted looking blue hairs brushed past him on the their way in or out. Brandon continued to cry and the squishy diaper was releasing its distinctive odor.

A small dark haired woman appeared at his elbow, "Come with me," Belle did not wait to see if he followed. He did.

She led him through a maze of corridors away from the main meeting hall to an elevator. She pushed the up button and they waited in silence. Except for Brandon, of course.

The elevator came, she entered and selected a floor.

Brandon's discomfort echoed through the empty hallways of the upper offices and he followed her unable to stop himself from wondering if she was leading him to a convenient murder spot. But she was so tiny and they were alone.

She could have a gun, he supposed, but she did not seem the type to use a gun.

And the end of a hall she pushed open the door to a women's restroom. And there, empty of fretting old ladies, was a place to change his angry child's diapers.

Belle stood watching him.

When he had finished and was rebuttoning Brandon's sleeper, she said, "In your new library, there will be changing stations in all the bathrooms."

With the discomfort soothed, his son began to calm down and Cameron retrieved him from the table. He began to rock as best he could before he replied, "That's two more favors you've done for me. I owe you a story, at the very least."

Belle nodded and leaned against a wall, regarding him without saying a word.

"My father is a drunk. He left me in the care of my aunts for a whole year while he went through involuntary treatment. They taught me to spin. He did not support me through college, which I only managed to attend on scholarship and while working as much as I could. I was slated to enter a doctoral program this fall, but I made a careless mistake which resulted in Brandon. Whom I love and would not give up for the world, don't get me wrong, but children change things. Melissa never wanted a baby but I convinced her I did and she grudgingly went through with the pregnancy. But was he born prematurely and spent his first three weeks in the hospital." Cameron coughed and his eyes stung. He clutched Brandon to him for a moment but Belle said nothing, waiting with patient eyes, "Melissa and I were away from the hospital that afternoon having a row on a public street. I wanted to pursue my PhD and I was asking her to help me care for Brandon while I did so. She refused, saying I had wanted him and now she wanted her life. We got loud and angry and-"

Cameron gasped around the tightness in his throat and tears stung his eyes. He looked up when he felt Belle's hand on his arm. She was looking at him, but she still said nothing, just squeezed his forearm.

He swallowed hard and then finished in a rush, "She told me to fuck off then began crossing the street. She had the right of way, but a truck turned left without looking and drove right over her. She was crushed to death right in front of me."

Cameron heard himself panting in the silence and Brandon was squirming in his arms. He loosened his old on the baby and opened his eyes again to look at Belle. Her face held none of the cold, hard calculation he was used to, just compassion and openness. He wanted to believe in those emotions. Badly. He had had no one to talk to about this since he left Glasgow.

So he continued, "That left me a single father with a baby in the hospital, no help, and little money. I'd effectively just killed the mother of my child in anger, and my own father, well, the less said of him the better. So I desperately searched for a job and took the first one I could find. I count myself lucky I found something in my field. Getting this job was the fresh start I desperately needed. Now you know why I haven't just left."

"That's an awful lot to bear at your age." Her hand had not left his arm and in fact her thumb stroked him gently. She was looking at the baby though. "Have you had a chance to read through the town archives yet?"

"I've been reading about your father. I haven't gotten to anything since his reign yet."

"Piece of work, wasn't he?" She looked up at him, was that hope in her eyes?

"Yes he was. We both had drunks for fathers. I guess we have something in common after all."

She smiled sadly at that, "More than you might think, perhaps. But it's getting late and I think at least one of us needs to go to bed."

She reached toward Brandon's head but quickly retracted her hand and looked away.

They made the journey back to the elevator without speaking, but when the doors swished closed, Cameron took a chance, "I did not expect the mayor's interest in how I run my library to be quite as extensive as it apparently is."

"How diplomatic of you. Yes. Regina is a good mayor who just misses being a great one because she loves control just a little bit too much. That and she will do anything to spite me, including trampling you. But you showed up tonight and stood up for yourself. She will respect you for that, but she'll never stop trying to have everything her way. Ever. That would be less of a problem if she were a slightly better thinker, but she's optimistic. Probably what keeps getting her reelected though, come to think of it." Belle told him all of this in a matter of fact tone.

The doors opened and they exited the small space to find the hallway darkened and vacant.

"Thank you, Belle." Cameron knew he needed to say that out loud even if he still did not know how much trust to place in her.

"You're welcome, Cameron. Maybe," she paused and licked her lips appearing nervous all of a sudden, "maybe when you're done reading the archives you could drop by the shop and we could talk about your plans for the library some more?"

"Perhaps so," Cameron opened the exterior doors and followed her out into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite the acceptance she showed him upon hearing his circumstances, Cameron still felt unsure about Belle. But he had given in to the fact that in the privacy of his own mind she was just Belle instead of Ms. French anymore. That could mean trouble for him, but he remained curious about her. More than was probably good for his future in this town.

Weeks went by before she sought him out again. 

He was hip deep in organizing city records in anticipation of the completion of the Storybrooke Historical Reference Room in the basement when he heard her call out from the entrance.

"Mr. Gold? Are you here?" 

He appreciated her attempt to avoid startling him though it did not work. But she did not have to know that.

"I'm with the city records Belle, come on in!" Cameron realized what he had just yelled through the library too late. At least no one else was present to overhear his slip of the tongue. He should not have just called her by her first name.

She appeared moments later looking oddly like she was genuinely glad to see him, personally, not just because she needed something. Cameron filed that away in his mental folder labeled the Mysterious Belle French: MBF. He had begun labeling such observations MBFs in his mind.

"Hello Cameron," her voice was as warm as her expression, "I just wanted to let you know I am going down to check on Mr. Wood's progress downstairs. Do you have any interest in joining me?"

Cameron was about to say no, but she looked hopeful, though reservedly so, like she expected a no and if he said it, her sadness would return. He had no real reason for her sadness to matter to him other than his innate human decency, but Cameron knew that he did not want to be what made her sad. Especially if it could be avoided easily.

"Sure, I could use a stretch break anyway. After you?"

The silence in the elevator was awkward for a moment as Belle fidgeted beside him.

"I am working on a project which will impact your interests. I was wondering if I could show you what I have in mind sometime in the next few days?" She sounded almost diffident, not at all like a Don intending to squash him.

"What kind of project?" If he sounded suspicious, he could not be blamed, but he tried to hide those feelings behind neutrality.

"I know you've been sifting through the town's history and that I've told you that I've been trying to revitalize this town since my father's reign of terror. Nudging economic growth and opportunity in a sleepy town on the edge of complete collapse has been a long and slow process, but I am finally in a position to enact my vision for this town."

Belle had a vision for the town and had just told him plain as day that she planned to execute it. Cameron did not yet know what kind of person Belle was, and his insides clenched in anxiety. He felt a bit like a trapped animal. Belle was incredibly powerful in this town and Regina, well, Regina had just attempted to neatly end-run him out of decision making capacity in his own library. This town was terrifying.

Regina was clearly struggling to maintain any control over the town while Belle had a long term vision and the means to execute apparently without the consent of the mayor or the town. and here she was, cornering him in an elevator and coyly asking him for his input because his interests would be impacted? She could not actually be asking for input though, could she? It sounded like it. 

But which was more likely? Mysterious and powerful woman offers recent graduate input into a scheme spanning decades or MBF intends to impress upon him how powerful she is and how she can crush him like a bug if he steps out of line?

Occam's razor: door number two. But she was giving him eyes like she expected to be kicked and then chained up outside all night in the cold. Yes, Belle French had acted toward him like she fully expected to be abused at every turn. Cameron felt a piece of the puzzle fall into place though he could not yet make sense of the whole image.

But he had been silent too long.

"I see. Perhaps this move has been a bit overwhelming for you. Maybe you were not prepared for what your position would mean to this town." She looked at the floor then pushed the stop button on the elevator. Cameron's heart began pounding. "I could," Belle's voice sounded a little too high, like her throat had tightened up, "Cameron, I could help you. You may not want to be involved in town politics outside running your library and I cannot blame you. You signed up for a library, not to be the rope in a tug of war. But the world is a truly frigid place and you are here now. If you want out, the offer remains, but if you want to make something of your library, of this town, there is an opportunity here."

The MFB strikes again, he thought as he broke into a sweat. Feeling like he had been shoved off the high dive with no ability to swim, Cameron made the best decision he could.

"Alright, Belle, would tonight, after I pick up Brandon, work for you?" He needed to know more of what was going on in this town if he was going to survive long enough to acquire enough savings to leave in a better condition than he arrived.

She beamed at him. Her features bloomed and her eyes sparkled. "This could be the project that finally lets this town take off again. Meet me at the marina at six-thirty?"

Grinning ear to ear, she slapped the button and the elevator continued its descent. It was a happy grin, like he had given her candy. Or kissed her.

Cameron choked mentally and only just missed doing so aloud at that thought. He took just enough time to make certain he could get the words out without betraying himself. "Fish and chips for dinner, then?"

If he thought she looked happy before, now her smile radiated joy at him. "Yes, perfect."

Thankfully, the elevator ride was not long enough for either of them to have to say more before the doors opened into the library basement.


	9. Chapter 9

It's not a date. He did not ask you to dinner, Belle, it happens to be dinner time after work and he doesn't care to starve while you prattle on.

The voice of reason sounded particularly exasperated this fine evening just before six.

Belle knew by now that her entirely inappropriate interest in the BYS was not going to fade easily. She knew equally as well that he found her to be a reprehensible bottom feeder. Or maybe a leech. So these thoughts felt intrusive and unhelpful.

His face in the elevator told her everything she needed to know: this little crush she had would go absolutely nowhere. Not that it should, just thinking such thoughts about him made her feel like a cradle-robbing pervert. Still, college had been the last time Belle had even had an interest in someone let alone the fascination she had with Cameron Gold.

She took a deep breath, shoved a hand into her hair to order it somewhat and closed up the shop for the day. She would be early to the little food stand with its yellow umbrellas, but she could not make herself wait any longer.

As it happened he was early too, arriving mere minutes after she did. Seated, Belle enjoyed the opportunity to watch him approach unobserved. Brandon was growing fast. He must have been approaching six months old by now and he smiled and laughed at his papa's murmurings which Belle could not hear. He would turn toward Cameron, laugh and then shriek and giggle at a low swooping sea gull. Cameron was smiling too, a contented affectionate smile and his hand wrapped securely around his son where he was suspended in his front carrier.

The hard lump in her throat appeared out of nowhere and Belle had to fight to make sure she had dispensed with the melancholy before he noticed her friendly wave. Cameron used one of Brandon's pudgy little hands to wave back as he approached. He seemed to be moving a little more slowly and leaning more heavily on his cane for some reason.

"Good evening Mr. Gold, good evening Brandon!" Belle greeted them as brightly as she could manage. "We're in for a lovely sunset, I think."

The autumn chill had just begun to assert itself definitively in the evenings, though for now, afternoons remained delightfully warm. Mr. Gold had Brandon in an adorable little fuzzy jacket with a blanket tucked around the front carrier. She sported a svelte pea coat in forest green, cashmere-wool blend- the only way to go, really, because she found the polyester blends unbearable. Cameron himself sported a tweed looking suit jacket which looked so Scottish she half expected his legs to be poking out from beneath a kilt. They were not, much to her disappointment.

Cameron sat down across from her and looked at the sky, "Definitely. There is nothing like the sunset by the ocean."

She noticed his gross neutrality in opposition to her exuberance. He was humoring her. Being polite, but he would rather be elsewhere. Belle hunched in around her pain before she could stop herself and when she looked back she knew he and seen her withdraw from him. He looked at her like she was a bomb that needed diffusing. Suspect. Which wire did he need to cut to get himself and his baby away from her?

Refusing to give in to rejection when there was work to be done, Belle brightened deliberately deciding to ignore the awkwardness, "Would you like fish and chips or fish and chips?"

He granted her a smirk, "Fish and chips for me, I think."

"A lot or a little?"

"A lot, didn't get lunch today." His gaze just missed being pointed, but Belle instantly knew why he had been deprived of lunch: her untimely visit and disruption to his work day.

Grieved, she said, "I am so sorry! You should have said something! I feel bad. Next time I'll bring something for you since I would be a poor partner if I caused you to starve routinely. Just for that, I'm buying. No arguments."

Cameron shut his mouth and tried to hide his frown in nuzzling Brandon's fine baby hair. Brandon was grabbing at the rubber coated mesh table top with interest.

Belle hopped up and got in line. With her back to them, she let her face fall back into its habitual cool neutral to hide her distress from the teenaged hawker of grease she would now be forced to interact with. Courteously.

Definitely not a date. He would rather be anywhere than with her. Being seen in public with her probably pained him.

That should not have hurt as much as it did.

But there was no getting away from just how much it did hurt. It hurt like she would never see the sun again and it was all but unbearable.

"Two large fish and chips please. And two mango shakes." If he was allergic, she would drink his.

Belle opted not to return to the table to wait but rather loiter off to the side and capitalize on her reputation to put a hustle into the poor sweating teens at the friers.

When she returned with their food, Cameron had himself wrapped around his baby, rocking and staring off into the coloring clouds. It was a beautiful picture.

She told herself firmly to shut up.

"I don't know what you like, so I got us both the mango shake. It's the best of their flavors. Or at least I think so." Belle tried for a light, if neutral, tone.

He looked back at her and for a second he met her eyes like he was looking for something before he hastily looked away, "Thank you very much for dinner. I love mango ice cream so I bet it will be delicious."

Belle went for the ketchup with gusto while Cameron sampled the tartar sauce with obvious approval. Without saying a word, she passed her tiny plastic tub of icky sauce to him. Here was proof he was not perfect.

"What kind of person doesn't eat their fish with tartar sauce?"

"Don't you know what kind of person I am by now, Cameron?" She refused to call him Mr. Gold. Stubbornness all of a sudden? No taking it back now. Belle felt like a complete idiot.

"I really don't, no."

At his quiet and earnest tone her head shot up along with her eyebrows and she looked him full in the face. "I confess I am surprised to hear you say that."

She could not keep all the bitterness from her words.

He took offense, but Belle could not and would not retreat, so she continued to watch him, waiting for his reply.

He bit the end off a fry, naked of sauce she noticed, and chewed before responding. "I suppose I know what I need to know about you, but rumors do not make the person. Actions do. You are a bit of a puzzle in that. I saw you take a man's livelihood but in the next breath, you protected mine. You've been looking out for me completely unasked since I arrived here unheeding of my clear opinion of your business practices. I don't understand why."

Belle got the sense from him she had had many times when someone made their stand against her: he felt cornered, out of options. So he turned his back to the wall to at least look the predator in the eye while he stood to fight.

Brandon, squirmed uncomfortably the fry he had mashed in his little fist all but forgotten. He made a cry-face and his father, attuned to him lovingly, began rocking side to side and making shushing noises. But he never took his eyes off Belle.

"Monsters like me can't actually like other people. I do understand that attitude. But I gave you everything you need to understand me through my actions. Either you haven't finished reading about my travesty of a paternal parent or you are failing basic reading comprehension." She knew she should not have insulted him, but, for lack of any less childish excuses: he started it.

And she did feel a pang of regret over having first intended to simply use him to get to Regina. Meeting him had changed her motivation on a dime even though that had not been obvious to her until it was too late. Now, at least she had to be honest with herself, all he could be for her was a business partner and ally if she could behave herself long enough to appeal to him rationally. That if was getting bigger by the moment.

When she looked back up from the bite of fish she had shoved in her mouth to prevent any more prickly words from escaping he was looking at her. He looked almost confused, like he was on the verge of wanting to say something, but could not quite get the words out. She chewed and stared him down.

He looked away and at his own plate. He took a breath, "I don't think you can't like people," his voice had an almost soothing quality, could he be rendering a sideways apology? "I know you loved your mother very much. But that has nothing to do with me. You can't sit there and tell me you don't have six agendas for every move you make in this town. And you can't expect me to be so naive as to not think I am a part of at least three of them."

He was the one taking an aggressive bite and staring into his sauce this time.

Belle took her time, for a change, to consider her response, "I am glad you have begun to understand the nature of business. You and the library are a part of this town which makes you my business and I will always pursue my interests. It does offend me that you, having not yet done your research, have condemned me to the neighborhood of the heartless and cold, twice now."

He looked up sharply at her, "Do you really fault me for taking care with regards to my own priorities? My father has been using me my whole life. I have always been a means to an end for him. Come on, Belle, I recognize that when I see it."

Belle sat back in her chair and gave him a long considering look, "I would find you far less worthy of a business partner if you, after all these months, were continuing to fail to see the nature of your value to me. But what disappoints me most is that you are not living up to your intellect in favor of the prejudices of an entire town full of sad and distracted people who can't manage their affairs with integrity. That is lazy, Cameron, and as I said before, it does not become you. I can capitalize on your strengths and position in service to my own ends and have altruistic personal motives at the same time. That's what leaders do. Maybe this concept is hard for you because you are still so young, but I hope you will get that sorted out sooner rather than later." Belle knew petulant would not do so she tried not to show that off. She licked her lips and said, "Would it shock you to know that I like Regina? That we play chess over lunch monthly, often drunkenly?"

"My opinion bothers you." He whispered this.

She leaned in close so their faces were no more than a foot and a half apart. "It bothers me that your opinion is not based on evidence."

His eyes were illuminated by the setting sun and seemed to all but catch fire. She still wanted to kiss him. And that would never do.

"You saw to it that the records be moved to the library. So I would be forced to deal with them." He did not shy back from her. Brandon had begun sucking at a mashed fry in his clenched fist.

"Yes." Belle drew out the word to match his accusation.

"You are making this whole town dance on the ends of strings you control. Puppet master. I do not want to be a puppet of yours."

"Then help me." He blinked first and she smiled with a little sadness, "Being good at chess does not make me evil. It just makes me good at chess. My father was a bad man who hurt people in order to get whatever he could from them. I am not my father. But I am still his daughter, whether I like that or not. Listen to my proposal tonight, after dinner, then think about it, read the records. Do your homework. Then judge me with the facts. That's what I'm asking of you."

"And if, after I have all the facts, I still find you a greedy, self-serving puppeteer?"

"Then that will be your opinion and not just hearsay from an economically devastated and bitter town. I'll respect an opinion you make for yourself." Finished with that topic of discussion Belle focused on her food and enjoyed the tenderness of the fish coupled with the crispness of the fries which had not gone completely cold yet.

Cameron did the same.

A part of Belle decided right then and there that if he did retain his unflattering opinion once he had all the facts, she would give up on this godsforsaken town once and for all. She would pack it in and go back to Australia. It could not be worse than here, bugs and snakes and assorted relatives be damned.

Belle knew she would not do that. She had invested entirely too much into Storybrooke to leave her work unfinished. She felt so close to paying off her father's debt and yet, Cameron's good opinion suddenly loomed large in her consciousness. If he would not confer it upon her, she would know that she had lost the battle not to become her father while trying to extricate herself from his vice-like grip from beyond the grave. Belle hated her father.

When she had sucked the last bit of mango shake up through her straw and Cameron was wiping Brandon's greasy fingers, she stood. Indicating the tray and empty dishes, she offered, "Can I take that for you?"

Cameron looked up at her startled again, as if she were doomed to scare him into an early grave.

"Oh, yes, thank you." He returned his attention to his messy and adorable child.

Surely he would see.

Upon her return to their table, he had stood and Brandon was playing with one of his hands. "Are we going to be walking far? If so I will need to get his stroller."

"That sounds like a good idea, there are a few properties I want to show you." Belle eased back into professional neutral to bury her churning self doubts.

Cameron had jury-rigged a simple umbrella stroller so that he could steer one handed. Of course he would need that. Belle was impressed with his ingenuity and badly wanted to ask what had happened, but she knew that information was none of her business given her status as the town pariah.

With Brandon safely buckled in and snuggled under a blanket, Belle led them back toward the old cannery. She began, "I don't know how far you are in your reading of our history, so I'll give you the gist now. The cannery used to be the town's primary employer but poor regulation led to the collapse of the local fisheries. We only have our own unsustainable gluttony to blame, much as I would like to lay everything at my father's feet. The industry shifted toward crustaceans and shellfish, but the cannery's closure started a downward spiral, made worse by my father. Near as I can tell, he planned to bleed the town for everything he could and then retire back in Australia, on the backs of the poor, as you put it."

Quiet fell as they looked up at the peeling red and white paint of the huge historic building.

"It certainly seems from my reading that your father knew how to find the desperate." Cameron's voice was soft, careful.

"He did at that," Belle agreed. "We are headed toward a parcel of land I bought from the city to help Regina fund a reeducation program for the displaced workers. Reeducation is all fine and good if there is an industry available locally, but Storybrooke had little to offer at the time. I have spent my career trying to put our little town on the tourist map because Storybrooke is such a beautiful place. It deserves the attention and it deserves not to sink into drugs and despair."

"Drugs are a problem here?" Cameron sounded alarmed.

"My father brought them in, I have been playing whack-a-mole since trying to drive out the worst of it. But that's what happens to little towns when the only industry dies and people get depressed. I keep a close eye on my properties and have been well able to assist the police in minimizing the fledgling drug empire. Luckily for me, outsiders are fairly easy to spot and between Emma and myself, we've dispatched with the most serious problems. Everyone knows Leroy grows pot, but he keeps his operation small and discrete. He's harmless."

Belle glanced sideways at Cameron as they walked. He remained quiet in the pause and seemed to be listening at least.

"I've had some success bringing tourism into Storybrooke, you saw the whale watching tours and of course we were just making use of the boardwalk at the marina. But we need more than just that to bring people here to spend money." Just past the cannery property line, Belle took Cameron on a little trail down to the beach. The sun had begun to kiss the waves with pinks and oranges. It was perfect. "As it stands now, the cannery is an empty shell full of dusty equipment and rotting floorboards. The city owns it. I've suggested turning it into a museum, but Regina doesn't have the funds. But this," Belle gestured expansively at the brush strewn and sandy jetty, "is mine. Regina wants to develop it into low income housing and has demanded that I either surrender this property to her, at well below market value I might add, or she will construct the housing project in her derelict lot next to your library. I believe that is short sighted in the extreme."

Belle indicated a huge driftwood log and sat down looking out at the sunset. Cameron maneuvered Brandon between them and sat down himself. He flexed his ankle and though he tried to be discrete, Belle noticed. Sitting had been the right idea.

Cameron, who had been quietly allowing her to paint her plans for the town in broad strokes, spoke up, "And just how is it short sighted for Regina to build low income housing if the town is so economically destitute as to be unable to afford your rents?"

Belle smiled at him, "And why is the town destitute? Lack of employment. My plan addresses that." She gestured around them, "Look at this place! This is a beautiful habitat for marine life and a perfect park, given a few trails and a little grooming. Besides which, this park absorbs storm surges and acts as a buffer against the weather for this corner of Storybrooke. If Regina developed this land into housing, it would be totaled by the next major hurricane. And we all know the storms are growing in intensity and frequency."

"I don't see how a park fixes unemployment. A little temporary construction and a few long term grounds keepers, but Regina would not be desperate to build housing for six down on their luck people. From what I understand the problem is quite significant." Cameron showed her he was listening and would make her work for it.

"Indeed a park alone will not do much, but the park is part of a tourist walking system. Can you imagine if Marco had a shop to sell his hand crafted toys in? Or the nuns to sell their candles? Storybrooke is full of artisans. If the wayward baker had a steady stream of foot traffic, Nick wouldn't need a loan to buy a delivery van. Assuming he didn't just gamble it all away. I can't fix everything, try as I might." She looked down but picked up again quickly, "I have some investors ready to develop the lot next to the library into a plaza lined by small shops and restaurants. Imagine tourists coming to the library to visit the History room and get guidance about local attractions and businesses. Lastly, I want to open the old shipyards to the public. Storybrooke has a rich history that we could preserve, if I could get Regina onboard. We can employ those fishermen as tour guides."

Belle could feel the energy pulsing through her as she spoke passionately about her hopes for the future of their little town and as she talked, she thought she saw a glimmer in Cameron's eye.

Now he sat considering her in the waning light. He glanced at his son, now relaxed into sleep, before he spoke, "And how will you address Regina's immediate and valid concerns about the rental market's impact on low income residents?"

"My rental terms are fair for the value of my properties and I keep a careful eye on the income levels. I keep as close a margin as I can responsibly to minimize rents in the lower rent locations. I'm not the malaria laden mosquito my father was." Belle could not hide her indignation completely.

"Still, Regina's concern remains." It almost sounded like he might start negotiating with her. A good sign.

"It does, but that is we're our roles differ. Regina's role is to work and advocate for the citizens, something she does ably. My role is to foster as much economic prosperity as I can through responsible stewardship of the land assets I own."

"For yourself, or for Storybrooke?"

He was right, her word choice could have been better, "Again, I am not my father. I have worked tirelessly to improve this town as a whole and done my best to help Regina balance short term needs with long term goals. Even if she doesn't see it that way."

"So you agree that low income housing is a need."

Belle smothered a smirk, pleased with her conversation partner, "Yes, of course it is an issue. But it is Regina's to solve without sacrificing the long term economic viability of the town."

Cameron stared out at the darkening water seemingly in thought. He had yet to storm off and call her a monster. It took everything in her to keep from giggling in anticipation as he began to engage with the town's needs outside his own little library for the first time. If she could get him on the city council...

"What if you offered Regina something? You allow the city to subsidize rent in an adequate number of units you own, sparing Regina the construction costs in return for your buying the land for your development projects? If you give Regina what she needs, she would be free to consider your plans." Cameron spoke slowly and softly, Belle could tell he felt unsure, out of his depth.

And she had not felt so happy in months, maybe years. She had thought him a lost cause, that he would never become her business partner in more than name, and yet, here he was, taking the first step himself. Just as she had hoped he would. Belle did not jump up and clap her hands or dissolve into a fit of giggles. Perhaps she imagined doing these things, vigorously.

Instead she calmly stated her case, "Such tenants are known to be destructive and disruptive and will cost me every time a lease turns over." She saw him frown at her, "but," she held up a hand to forestall his censure, "I will make you a deal."

At that he stiffened and leaned away from her. 

For her part, Belle leaned in, "I will make that proposal to Regina if you back me up."

His jaw fell open and he stared at her. "Me?"

"Yes. You."

"Your price for low income housing is my backing your play against Regina."

"My price is your personal investment in the town you live in." Belle corrected him.

"Setting a price for something you should do because it's the right thing does little to improve your image, which you seem to care about a great deal." Cameron stated this as an observation, his confidence seemed to be growing. So much the better.

"If my setting a price gets this town two good things instead of one, I'll come out ahead in the long term. I am a pragmatist, Cameron, something I hope you will decide is a positive attribute in a business partner." Belle brushed her hair out of her face against the ocean breeze.

"Two good things? What's the second?"

Perfect.

"You. If you put some skin into this town, if you decide we are worth your time, Storybrooke gets a hell of an ally and leader."

Cameron stared at her. Then, with a slightly tight voice he said, "What makes you think I am anything other than the son of a drunk who can't keep it in his pants?"

Belle could not contain her snort of laughter, "I knew the first moment I saw you what kind of man you are. You'd just fallen, probably been hurt in the process and your first instinct was not to the town official in front of you or to yourself, it was to your son. That's when I knew we had something in common, caring outside our immediate wants, and hurts. That makes you an asset."

"You still say that though you believe I judged you unfairly." It took Cameron a few moments to decide to say this.

Belle grinned wolfishly at him, "I never said you were perfect, just that you are an asset."

"I'm not willing to make any deal with you on the spot. I need time to think about it." Cameron picked at a chipped fingernail and looked distinctly out of his element.

"Good for you. I wouldn't want a business partner who did not carefully consider his decisions. Take your time and ask me anything you think of." Belle felt positively gleeful, but she kept her tone professionally positive. "Would you be interested in a walk-through of the plaza layout I have in mind?"

Cameron looked up at her and the dying rays of the sun caught his hair into a gleaming golden mane. The man was way, way too bonny for her own good.

"I think I would like that, yes."

Belle smiled widely at last, feeling a pressure lift away. She took a deep freeing breath and stood. "I have drawn up some preliminary plans back at the shop with the investors I'm currently courting, we can take a look at the lot and then I'll show it to you."


	10. Chapter 10

The demonic characters of her illuminated alarm clock menaced her bleary eyes as she came to wakefulness at just before two in the morning. She had absolutely no doubt as to what had awakened her. It was the same thing she had done her best to go to sleep in spite of: Brandon Gold's incessant wailing.

Belle groaned loudly and rubbed at gritty, dried-out eyes. She had been so certain Cameron would get him settled, but no, Brandon had been crying for hours on end. And Belle knew she would not be getting any sleep that night. She had been able to hear Brandon's cries before when he was particularly upset, but this was not his usual. Cameron always saw to his needs promptly and he had never been a particularly difficult child in the first place.

Slightly more awake, Belle began to think something more serious than a dirty diaper or a case of the crankies was wrong. She yawned, then sat up and kicked off her covers.

Having seen to her own comfort stop in the bathroom, Belle put on her winter robe and went downstairs for a cup of tea. The autumn chill had made its way into the house, not enough to trigger the heat pump, but enough to make Belle notice. She stared at the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

When it did, she began steeping the tea and then did something before truly considering it. She pulled down a tall thermos instead of a mug. She stared at it for a moment, heaved a sigh and then gave into her impulse. It was two in the morning and she just wanted to be Belle for a change. Storybrooke's landlady could slumber while Belle stole these few hours for herself.

It took three rounds of knocking before a bleary eyed Cameron answered the door with his screaming baby on his hip. He did not even attempt to hide his displeasure. "Are we disturbing your rest?"

Belle held a surrendering hand in the air and gestured with the thermos with the other. She lifted a friendly eyebrow at him, "I come in peace, bearing gifts."

Cameron looked confused and the dark circles under his eyes made him look haggard and also older. "What?"

"I brought you tea. I thought," she shrugged, "I thought maybe I could help you. You seem to be having a bit of a rough night."

"You brought tea?"

"I boiled a whole kettle and so..." Belle extended the thermos toward him, "It's a soothing blend I get from a shop based in Montana, it tastes as delicious as it smells. Caffeine free."

"You brought tea for an infant?" Cameron tried to keep swaying back and forth as Brandon bellowed on and they attempted to talk in between.

Belle looked down, "No, I brought the tea for you, I thought maybe I could help you with him for a bit, you look exhausted."

Cameron seemed to finally start to get it, "You came to help me?"

She looked back up at him, feeling shy, "I'll go, if you want, I just thought-"

"Will you come in?" Cameron shifted Brandon on his shoulder awkwardly and shuffled back out of her way.

She gave him a little smile.

Once inside, Belle set the thermos down and shrugged out of her coat. When she turned back to face Cameron, he was staring at her. Brandon remained oblivious to his father's distracted efforts to calm him.

Belle looked down to be greeted by the sight of her bathrobe and pajamas. "Oh, I had forgotten about that, do you mind?"

Cameron shook his head, mutely.

"I'll just pour you a cup of tea and then, if you want, I could try for a bit?" Belle felt every kind of uncertainty in the book. Brandon had developed quite the set of lungs and he was hurting her ears. And yet, she had just offered to take him from his father and hold him close. Cameron looked unsure himself, "You need a break, just fifteen minutes even. I know I probably can't sooth him, but, but I can try."

"Ok," Belle barely heard Cameron's assent over his son's unhappiness, but she rushed to open the thermos and poor steaming tea into the screw-top cup. A pleasant aroma filled Cameron's living room.

She saw him inhale and then he met her eyes with a longing look. A moment later, he approached her and transferred his distraught child into her arms. Belle hugged the baby to her and snuggled around his stiff and squirming form. She began to rock and bounce and murmur into his hair as she had seen his father do. Cameron met her eyes over Brandon's head and he looked anxious, but also a bit relieved.

Then he abruptly hobbled stiffly toward the back hallway. The sound of the toilet flushing moments later told her everything she needed to know. Damn whatever the consequences of this decision, it was the right thing to do.

Brandon may have been making her ears wring, but Belle sing-songed to him wondering what was the matter to make him such an unhappy boy.

"I think it might be something I let him try this week. He's only just beginning solids and he's very curious about everything, but I think something didn't agree with his tummy." Cameron answered upon his return.

That would explain the unpleasant odor she had refrained from commenting upon but had definitely noticed emanating from the baby.

"I get upset if my diet goes awry, so I completely understand," Belle murmured as Brandon hiccuped between pitiful wailing.

Cameron gave her a baleful smile but said nothing, just watching her with his miserable son.

Belle rubbed Brandon's back and danced back and forth, whatever she could think of, trying to sooth him. "Cameron, please have your tea and sit down for a bit, I can see you hurting from here."

He jerked a nod at her and grabbed the cup of tea before lowering himself stiffly onto the couch. She could see his sigh even if she could not hear it above Brandon.

Belle paced between the kitchen and the back hallway, the length of the living room, before finally deciding to go into Brandon's room and shut the door to give Cameron at least a little time away.

He had painted, even in the dim lamplight she could see a fantasy landscape in watercolor muraling the walls. It was beautiful. Maybe not a professional job, or even a high end amateur one, but she could see love in every brush stroke. Belle plopped down in the rocking chair and wrapped Brandon's blanket more snugly around him before she began to rock vigorously and pat him firmly on his tense back. And he cried unhappy tears in a seemingly endless stream.

So Belle cuddled him closely against her body and gazed out into the world of imagination Cameron had created for his son. Time went by and Belle rocked and Brandon cried.

And he really did smell foul. Clearly the baby had gas and it was making him miserable.

Fifteen minutes she had said, but Cameron had not come to find them, so Belle rocked and shushed and rubbed her way into the next hour.

Abruptly she felt an explosion in Brandon's diaper and she gagged at the smell. Well. It seemed Cameron had been quite correct in his assessment. Brandon continued to cry so Belle went to go get Cameron. She had never changed a diaper in her life.

But when she arrived in the living room, Cameron had slumped over on the couch and was fast asleep. Completely down for the count. No way would she wake him. They would have to figure it out. How difficult could it be?

Belle started by setting her charge down in his crib. The smell was truly horrendous. It took some digging to find everything she thought she would need: a new diaper, some wipes and, hedging her bets, a change of outfit. She could not leave Brandon in those stinky clothes.

His little face reddened by crying, streaked by tears and his angry flailing fists broke her heart.

"You'll be so much more comfortable in a minute, love, Auntie Belle's gonna get you changed and comfy. But I need you to be patient because I've never done this before."

Belle cooed as she unsnapped his pajamas to find a body suit like thing with snaps at the diaper area underneath. Sure enough, the dreaded mess had begun seeping out around the edges. Belle gagged loudly. Really, really icky.

"Ok Belle," she told herself, "you can do this."

Once exposed, Belle unfastened the offending diaper and pulled it away from Brandon's coated diaper area, there was not an inch that was not covered. And then she realized her mistake. She could not let go of his legs and his thrashing fists were threatening to spread the mess everywhere. Despite regular dry heaves on her part, Belle managed to get the diaper into a nearby pail and pry open a container of wipes one handed.

Then she started wiping trying desperately to keep Brandon's hands out of it and not get any on herself either. There were moments of distinct failure. Brandon's sheets would need to be changed and she had to pause in cleaning his bottom multiple times to clean his hands and face and hair and...

Halfway through, he squirted a fresh stream clear to the end of his crib to run down the shiny wooden slats.

"Oh fuck!" Belle all but sobbed. And she started again.

At least half an hour later, she had the baby corralled at the head of the crib with a diaper on and all the fecal material wiped off of him while she began sorting out the mess at the foot of the crib. For a wonder, with his diaper changed and load discharged, Brandon began to calm down and his face started to relax. Full throated cries had turned into whimpers by the time Belle had relieved his bed of soiled blankets and found yet another clean outfit for him, since she had placed the original set in the line of fire.

His skin seemed a bit chilly by the time Belle began trying to thread his limbs into his clothing and Belle felt bad for leaving him naked for so long. But he was quiet, barely still awake, while she dressed him. For good measure she wrapped him in a fresh blanket while she did her best to remake his bed anew for him.

It was difficult to believe that the cherubic features relaxed in sleep belonged to the same baby which had howled since sundown. He was a lovely child, now with a gentle flush on his face. He felt warm enough to her touch so Belle guessed at how his father might arrange him for sleep and then she surprised herself by leaning into the crib and kissing his forehead.

"Goodnight, sweet Brandon," Belle clicked off the lamp and left the room.

With his bedroom door ajar, she padded back down the hallway toward the living room. Cameron remained in the exact same position out cold on his couch. Belle thought of the tea and decided to have a cup herself before heading home.

She settled down on the opposite end of the couch with her borrowed mug of microwaved tea and sipped.

Sunlight in her face woke Belle and she gave a start. Where was she? The intersection of the walls and ceiling above her eyes were completely unfamiliar. Panic began to rise and she struggled to sit up, which was when she saw Cameron.

The sun illuminated the hair that had fallen over his face in sleep and his beard had grown in during the night giving him a scruffy look. He still had his foot propped up on an ottoman but he was otherwise sprawled out in an adorably disorganized manner. She had the urge to draw his hair out of his eyes. She resisted and instead stood slowly, stiffly. Belle was much too old for falling asleep on couches. Then she frowned, Brandon.

She hastened to his room and peered over the side of her crib. Still asleep. Belle gazed at his soft baby features. He would probably be handsome like his father as an adult.

The pang that jolted through her brought Belle up short. The likelihood of her seeing this baby as an adult was slim to none. Considering how Cameron felt about Belle, it seemed very likely that he would move away as soon as he felt he could for a better opportunity. She allowed herself one last longing look, then left his room.

She ran into Cameron, literally, in the hallway.

They both startled and he began to teeter over. Belle reached for his shoulders and steadied him. That left her looking up into his eyes. She stared at him and his wide eyes stared back. His shoulders felt strong and solid under her fingers and his free hand held her waist.

For a mesmerizing moment, neither moved as sleep deprived brains tried to sort out the tangle. Belle came to first and squeezed his shoulders in a belated attempt to right his balance before she stepped back a bit from him. His hand fell from her waist and Belle regretted that instantly.

Then she realized that his eyes had strayed from hers and why. Her bathrobe had long ago come untied and the v-neck of her pajama top had left him an expansive view. She took a deep breath, which was probably the opposite of what she should have done in that situation but, she could not help it.

He coughed, "You're still here."

His voice sounded gravelly with early morning and he was much too handsome with that scruff. The thin tee shirt rested pleasingly over the plains of his body and his sweatpants showed her an outline she should not stare at when she looked down, away from his eyes.

Belle got ahold of herself, "I'm sorry, I meant to wait until you woke to let you know I'd tucked Brandon in, but I had a cup of tea and I guess I nodded off. I'll go."

"Uh," he stepped into her path, "thank you. You had no obligation to, to be so kind."

Belle looked back up and into the richness of his eyes, "It was nothing."

Feeling shy, Belle smiled a little and then brushed past him to leave.

Three steps outside his door, Regina snapped her out of her reverie.

"Good morning, Belle." The mayor had narrowed eyes fixed on Belle's disheveled appearance, scanning her from her deranged hair down to her fluffy slippers.

Even sleep deprived, Belle knew an opportunity when she saw it. She gave Regina the biggest shit-eating grin she could fit on her face and replied simply, "Good morning, Regina. Henry."

"Good morning, Miss French!" Henry gave her a wonderfully chipper smile and gestured with the book in his hand, "I wish I could hear the songs the elves sing, you know?"

Belle did know, "Me too, Henry. Have a good day at school."

"Bye!"

Belle was very glad Henry was enjoying the Lord of the Rings which she had managed to slip into his possession without the censorship of his mother.

She was even gladder about the ill-concealed thunderhead behind Regina's eyes. Let her stew in that, Belle thought.

If Regina had not happened to have been right there, Belle would have wanted to creep back to her own house without anyone seeing her. But since that could not be arranged, she took the next best option which was to let Regina think exactly the wrong thing about what she had just witnessed.

Not a walk of shame at all. But Regina did not know that.

Belle, even tired as she was, returned to her home to dress with a smile on her face.


	11. Chapter 11

The autumn afternoon was warm, a pleasant break from the fitful little storm that came in off the ocean yesterday. Knowing that sunlight and outside time were about to become scarce, Cameron took advantage of his afternoon off work to take Brandon on an adventure to explore the green belt behind their neighborhood. Belle had said there were paths, and she was right.

Dimly, Cameron thought she had said something about a playground, but he must have taken a wrong turn because instead of a jungle gym, he found a clearly historic cemetery. Not the squeamish sort, Cameron took in the well kept shrubs and trees and decided that Brandon would be unlikely to care if their only other companions today were dead. For his part, Cameron thought he might snoop around the family plots and make up some silly stories about how people died for their mutual entertainment.

The Storybrooke cemetery was not a huge place, but there were some very old graves the inscriptions upon which he read aloud. The solitude felt blissful and Brandon kicked happily from his front carrier looking at everything.

Cameron smiled happily too. The visit he had made to a doctor about having trouble carrying his growing son long distances with his ankle had led him to an off-loading boot, so they had called it. He still needed the cane, but the support let him walk much further carrying his son than he had been able to and the exercise felt wonderful. This new doctor had even recommended he see a surgeon in Boston because technology had dramatically improved since Cameron was a child. The thought of better function and less pain heartened him, but he had turned down an immediate appointment because he could not manage Brandon's needs and convalesce from his own surgery at the same time. Perhaps when Brandon was ready to start school.

For now though, the boot made the difference between going for a walk with his son on a wooded path and trying to bump a stroller along and giving up within fifty feet.

But eventually, his injury did require a rest so he found a secluded place in the shade beneath a cherry tree and spread out a blanket for the two of them.

Cameron could not help it. He was in love with his son. That gummy smile and those bright brown eyes that lit up when they saw he was paying attention, the squirming limbs that were threatening to coordinate into crawling very soon. All of it. He placed Brandon on his back while he retrieved snacks for them both from his pack. By the time he turned back, the little bugger was grinning and on his tummy with a fist full of blanket in his mouth.

When they got home, Cameron was going to go over the baby-proofing of his house for the tenth time.

Using a burp cloth to spare the blanket at least some staining, he hoped, Cameron put a few bits of banana and cereal down for Brandon to find. He was not disappointed. In no time, the blanket had been forgotten in favor of sticky little banana coated fingers and drool. Cameron munched the rest of the banana contentedly while he watched his son devour the morsels his father had left for him.

After several rounds of peek-a-boo, Brandon started to look drowsy so Cameron covered him with the blanket and began to recite a verse from home he well remembered:

Sleep well, ma bairnie, sleep.  
The lang, lang shadows creep...

Somehow, between the comfort of the afternoon and the soothing sound of the wind in the trees around them Cameron had wrapped a hand around Brandon's little leg and drifted into slumber himself. He would have sworn he was not sleeping except that he knew a familiar voice had woken him up.

Someone had been talking for awhile, but not to him, and it had been a soothing monologue.

"I'd have been here yesterday, but it was raining so hard when I left the shop and I was just too tired. I hope you and papa will forgive me. Listen to me, as if I care still what he thinks. I know, I shouldn't feel that way about him but I do. I resent him every day, mama. You know I come to visit you, but he insisted on being buried next to you so it's not like I can avoid visiting him too. He probably thought of that."

Cameron opened his sleepy eyes during her pause and found Brandon still deeply asleep having not moved from under his papa's protective hand. He could not see her, down the hill and behind a small hedgerow as he was from apparently her parents' graves, but he knew to whom he was listening.

Awake enough now to realize this situation, Cameron felt torn, if he roused Brandon and left, he would disturb and probably destroy her private moment of grief. If he stayed where he was, he would be eavesdropping in the worst way.

He was about to rise when she continued, so he remained still.

The sound of tears was distinct.

"Oh mother, I have made such a mess of my life. Or rather he made such a mess of my life and I just haven't been clever enough to see my way out of it even all these years later. But," a gentle, if wet, sniff, "I have made some progress this year. I reopened your library. I'm not running it, like I always wanted, but, but, I think you would like the young man who is. I do."

Cameron stopped breathing, feeling more intrusive than a fly on a wedding cake.

"Regina hired him, but he's perfect. Well, he'd be perfect if he was at least thirty."

His mouth fell open but he was utterly rooted to the spot, paralytically so, holding his breath to hear what else she had to say about him.

"Mother, I feel like a pedophile every time I look at him. I had intended, when I heard about him, just to maneuver him into place between Regina and I, a way to protect your library from her officious meddling. She's still the same old micro-managing yellow-jacket she's always been and I know she means well and for the most part she even does a good job of keeping the town above water, but I couldn't let her stick her nose into your library. But then I met him. I haven't been this clumsy of a manager since I was still in my twenties myself."

He heard her sniff again. She had meant to use him against Regina and yet-

"I took one look at him and my heart fell out of my chest in front of him. Not that he knows it, but I haven't been able to scrape it off the floor of the library since. At least I hope he doesn't know. I thought it was just my biological clock hijacking my brain at first- pretty face plus hormones never leads anywhere productive- but," she heaved a sigh, "it's only gotten worse."

Out of breath panting had begun probably because he had held his breath too long and he stared with wide eyes in the direction of her unhappy voice.

"The truly deplorable part is that he wants nothing to do with me. Just like everyone else in this town since I was a child. Didn't you think it was odd that I had no friends? Ever? Mama, you never talked to me about why the other children wouldn't play with me. Anyway, it took him less than a day to decide that I'm just like papa and that is unlikely to change. So here I am, another year gone by and I have no one, still. It's almost worse than that though, because I stupidly gave him the house next to ours blithely thinking I could talk faster than the town could."

She was silent a beat.

"I suppose it is my own damned fault anyway. I didn't take care with how I told him about papa and he leapt to the same conclusion everyone does. I probably just expected him to do exactly that and steered him that way unconsciously. In any case, now every time I look out my window, I don't just see a town that hates me and wishes me dead, I see the first person in more than twenty years I've had an interest in shutting me out of his life as much as possible."

Cameron felt his eyes prickle, he had known Belle was sad, but the extent of it and how deep and how long it had been going on was shocking to hear.

A nose blowing sound and a wet cough came from her direction before she picked up again.

"Mother, I'm utterly pathetic. I'm a grown woman in love with someone who's barely out of boyhood and to him, I am a barnacle he can't scrape off. Fuck me. I don't know why he doesn't just leave. I gave him an out, so why didn't he take it immediately and leave behind his creep of a landlady and her weird little town with its political land mine-strewn streets?"

Another sniff and a heavy breath.

"I should just leave him alone, deal with Regina on my own and let the poor boy be, but I am such a glutton for torture that I keep involving him in my projects as if he intended to stay here the rest of his days. My bonny young Scotsman is so unlucky in his choice of employment that his intrusive landlady shows up in the middle of the night with tea because she's lonely and a really sad excuse for a person."

He could hear her heavy sigh.

"I am every bit the asshole he thinks I am, if not for the reasons he believes. For gods' sakes it's way past time I grew up and stopped having little girl fantasies of love and family. That's not for me. Never has been. Papa made certain of that. Damn you to hell!"

Cameron's thoughts whirled around his head in a cyclone faster than he could latch on to them. He could hear her crying softly just out of his sight but she seemed to have finished what she had to say to her mother.

He himself was all but gasping for air like a beached fish. And his own eyes were wet.

Forced to contend with his own uncomfortable feelings towards his landlady, Cameron rolled onto his back to stare at the sky.

He was no stranger to his feelings of bodily want towards her and his embarrassing staring at her chest that morning had not helped that issue one bit. But the thought that she more than returned those sentiments threatened to drown him on the spot. How did he feel about Belle? About his landlady? About his business partner? About the woman who had attached strings to his wrists and ankles with the intent to make him dance?

These were four separate people. Or so it seemed to him at the moment.

The kind woman who brought him tea in the middle of the night and cleaned up his baby so he could sleep loved him. His landlady wanted her properties rented to decent tenants. His business partner wanted his library open and alive for the memory of her mother. And the puppeteer? She wanted a pawn in her schemes against the mayor.

And these were all one person.

He urgently needed to read about her business dealings over the past twenty years. She had given him the files, clearly desperate for him to read them and absolved her of sin. Cameron had avoided doing so as long as possible because he resented being drawn into politics and scheming. But.

But what if the heart of each of those four people really was in the same place? A good place of wanting to help the town? What if he found a two decade long history of Belle French doing right by her obligations, keeping her word and trying to save this town from economic ruin? What would that mean? To the town? To him personally?

His heart was pounding still from her having said she loved him. Could the warmth in his chest that rose when she showed up a few nights ago be the beginnings of love? He knew he thought about her all the time, but how could he not? There were few avenues of his life in which she was not intricately involved now. And still.

Had he not thought of kissing her, there in his hallway with them both in their pajamas? Was there something stirring in him now at the thought of holding her.

She was certainly correct about the age gap, but how much did that really matter in the grand scheme of things? That brief dinner at her house before he had decided she was a capitalist leech had been humming with feelings of hope, of being wanted himself, welcome for perhaps the first time in his life.

Come to think of it, their histories were not so terribly dissimilar. Cameron could not recall having ever felt so wanted as he had when he had been in her home. No one desired Cameron's company. Melissa had been pretty clear she just wanted sex, and he had thought he was fine with that. His father had never wanted him at all and his aunts had seen him as a duty, not necessarily an unpleasant one, but not one they had been planning on. He had had some friends along the way, but time had torn them from him and all of his close ties, except to Brandon, had been broken.

It sounded like she had perhaps never had any close ties at all since the passing of her mother.

He could still hear the sounds of her tears and an image of dashing up the little rise and pulling her into his arms flooded his brain. He could never act on that of course, but the draw was so very strong.

If he set her four personas aside, Belle was a smart, driven woman who seemed to look at him and see the best of what he could be rather than the son of a drunk and irresponsible baby daddy he was. She had had to look for that to see it, to make an effort to look past the obvious to see the potential.

He had not done that for her.

A pang of guilt and doubt lanced through him. She had been remarkably straightforward with him about how he had wronged her but he had not seen it until today.

He had to go and read those records, but he could not move a muscle until she left. Gods, what if she took the trail head near where he and Brandon were to depart? Panic rose in his chest.

"Mother, I need to go. I miss you terribly and think about you every day. I have sent the preliminary plans to the architect for your auditorium and I'll come visit to let you know when we open it. I know you'd love it."

Cameron did the only thing he could think of to make this situation better. He closed his eyes and did his best to relax his body in a semblance of sleep. He waited for footsteps to approach and for embarrassed and hushed swearing to startle him "awake."

But it never came. A faint rustle of grass gave way to the retreating crunch of gravel and he knew she had taken the path away from him for her return trip.

He held his breath until he no longer could and then heaved a huge sigh of relief. Still, Cameron waited a solid hour to depart so there could be no chance of awkwardness.

When he finally reached home, he threw together a sack dinner for himself and Brandon and headed to the library. An all nighter awaited him.


	12. Chapter 12

Cameron waited for her to appear after the tiny bell above her door jingled announcing his arrival. But she did not. Odd, she must have stepped out for a minute.

He had not been in the shop since he had dropped off his first requisition for books. Now he was nearly ready to open the library as the finishing touches on the Storybrooke Historical Room were underway. Just a few more weeks.

He drifted, as if pulled by gravity, toward the spinning wheel which, he noticed, remained exactly as he had left it months ago. Dangling roving and all. If not for the lack of dust, he would have said she had not touched it.

He sat down to run his hands over the soft roving while he waited.

Overhearing her very private, very personal conversation with her mother in the cemetery had been advantageous in more ways than he had realized yesterday. His procrastination with regards to reading her records would have caused him an all-nighter under even more pressured circumstances had he delayed any further. Which he would have done out of spite.

Now he imagined that the roving was her hair instead of wool, soft and comforting in his hands.

"Oh, Cameron! I'm so sorry. I wasn't expecting you, I just stepped out for a moment-"

He startled badly, again, his heart racing and he trembled involuntarily as he sucked in a rapid breath and hunched in around himself. It was as bad as if she were a ghost. Every time!

And she noticed it too.

Consternation and worry etched her features as he turned to face her. She fretted, "Should I get a collar with a bell or something so you can hear me coming? I don't mean to be a constant pest."

He shook his head and stood from the wheel, "It's alright. If I were less deep of a daydreamer, I'd notice people around me. The fault is not yours."

Cameron crossed the room to her noting the affection and concern for him in her features. How had he ever thought that was an act? Now that he knew her true motives, it was plainly obvious that Belle separated her business dealings from her personal feelings and that she had never been anything but open about those with him. He did not cover her hands where they rested on the glass case with his, but he thought about it.

She continued to search his face, "Is everything alright? Have you gotten any sleep in the past few days? You look like sleep has been a stranger too long. How's Brandon?"

Avoiding drowning in her eyes took some doing as he realized that her speech was affected by how much time she spent reading. No one who avoided literature would ever speak like she did. 

"He's much better, thank you for asking." Cameron leaned on the glass case to be closer to her. "As it happens, this is my fault." He had to come up with some excuse other than confessing what he had overheard for his sudden all night reading spurt. "I'm afraid I got behind at work and the two of us had a slumber party in the library last night while Papa caught up. Brandon is in much better spirits than his father, though, since he wasn't behind in his reading."

Her brow furrowed a little at this, "It must have been interesting reading or you'd have fallen asleep at a reasonable hour."

Cameron looked down, feeling his shame deeply. "It was."

A quiet beat stretched out into an awkward silence and then she broke it when he had not figured out how to broach the subject he had in mind.

"Is it something you need my help with?" 

How had he ever thought Belle was anything other than altruistic?

And yet, a last sliver of doubt lingered in his mind. Would she do the right thing? Or would she use him for a still more hidden motive?

There was only one way to find out.

"Actually, yes. I was wondering if I could get another look at those plans you showed me, for the tourist plaza."

Her smile blazed and she practically vibrated excitement at him. The naked hope in her eyes made him hurt for her all over again. How, after being shunned by every human being except her mother, did Belle still hope? But there it was in a set of shining blue eyes utterly without guile: Belle hoped he would change his mind about her.

That alone was nearly enough to do the job. But he had a plan and he needed to see it through to be sure.

Her face settled into an anticipatory smile. "I'll be right back."

With that simple phrase, she disappeared into her back room.

But when she returned, she did not lay the plans out on the counter between them with her elegant paperweights as before. "I am attempting to improve my manners and as such, I have taken notice of the time of day. Since you have a habit of depriving yourself, I suspect you have not yet eaten?"

Cameron gave his hands a guilty stare, "That would be a correct assessment."

"I thought as much." She stood beside the counter with an eyebrow raised, "Join me for lunch, Mr. Gold?"

With her looking at him like that his heart skittered and his answer was a foregone conclusion, "I will, Ms. French."

At Granny's they took over a couple of tables pushed together so they could have their meal and look over plans at the same time.

Ruby had bounced over a moment ago with his burger, extra pickles. Belle had been right about that too. He had since learned that Granny made the pickles herself from a family recipe and Belle's praise had not been unearned. He had not had the heart to swat her hand away from his surplus when she had given him a sly smile and reached for one.

Sanguine was a good color on Belle. Her whole demeanor had shifted since he had asked to see her plans. Gone was the business woman expecting a hard sell, if she could be successful at all, and here was the playful and impish conversationalist he had glimpsed that night in her home months ago. Without the omni-sadness weighing down her features, a flirtatious buoyancy illuminated her like gold on an ancient manuscript.

Did she have any awareness of how different her optimism made her now?

Optimism.

Cameron was only listening to Belle with half an ear while she rehashed what she had told him before.

The only reason the jubilance of her youth had not been utterly crushed was a determined, willful and unwavering optimism that lived somewhere deep in Belle. She, beneath the layers of her intellect and shrewd business acumen, hoped unrelentingly. Looked actively for the good in everything.

And that quality pulled him toward her as surely as any magnet designed just for him.

His thoughts drifted to the difference in their ages. Weird yes, but if men could marry women half their ages, why could women not do the same? Cameron nearly choked on that thought. A bit ahead of the game to be sure, but still. Would he close the door to what he knew Belle wanted because she was old enough to be his parent, if just? Brandon would benefit from her brilliant inner light and having a mother could only help his son grow into a better person than if he raised him alone.

An unwelcome accent from closer to home than Belle's own interrupted his rather premature musings.

"Mr. Gold! How delightful to see you again!" Red hair, curly. A sharp smile that just missed menacing Belle. Regina's sister Zelena, and she had too many hands by half. One of those hands had just landed on his thigh as she sat down beside him, uninvited.

Belle's eyes flashed to glacial ice in a split second.

But Zelena had no interest in Belle and went on above what was certain to be Belle's dismissal of the intruder.

"I'm meeting my sister for lunch, won't you join us Mr. Gold? I'm certain Ms. French wants her solitude to plot and scheme in peace." 

Cameron tried to pull his legs together in an attempt to escape the unwelcome hand, but it slid higher instead and its owner leaned in as she spoke.

"Actually, Ms. West, Belle and I have not finished our meeting so I won't be able to join you today."

"Belle, is it?" she tutted, "I would be careful about your associations in this town, Mr. Gold. I know you're still getting to know everyone, but you would not want to give out the wrong impression by accident. Small towns can be so catty."

Cameron's stomach clenched in revulsion and anger. He could see Belle out of the corner of his eye with her neutral mask firmly engaged. He thought she looked as if she fully expected him to reject her company in light of Zelena's less than subtle imprecations. In fact, it looked like she had already resigned herself to the certainty.

Before he could utter a syllable, Regina breezed in and planted her hands firmly on the open plans next to Belle, "Oh Mr. Gold! How wonderful! I was just thinking we could use a lunch meeting, join Zelena and I?

It was hardly a question at all, but Belle had had enough, clearly, "Mr. Gold is already engaged in his lunch meeting, so I'm afraid you'll have to reschedule, Madame Mayor."

Her wolfish grin made Cameron think Regina would be fortunate not to wind up on the menu.

"I'm afraid Ms. French is correct for this afternoon, Madame Mayor, and I do like to keep my prior engagements. I am trying to pick up on professional behaviors as quickly as I can. As for my associations, Ms. West, I have had certain past mistakes revealed to me. Among them was allowing the judgment of others to substitute for my own. I may be still learning, but let it not be said that I am incapable of it." With that, Cameron removed Zelena's intrusive extremity from his thigh and placed it overtly in her own lap.

When he looked back at Belle, he saw her swallow hard and her eyes had become large liquid pools. Regina's eyes had narrowed and Zelena sneered openly.

"Suit yourself, but don't blame me if your youthful naïveté leads you astray." Zelena flicked her long hair in his face and stood, holding out a hand toward her sister, "Shall we?"

Regina frowned darkly at Belle, but by the time her gaze landed on him, her expression was one of, unless he missed his guess, genuine concern. About what he could not know, but Regina, unlike her sister, seemed to have motives aside from her own social aspirations and unbridled lust. Whatever those might have been.

When he looked back at his lunch companion, a softer, rather hesitant gaze awaited him. "I'm surprised again, Cameron. May I ask after your apparent change of heart?"

Her directness made him gulp past a hard lump in his throat. He could not tell her of his trespass into her personal and very private inner life. Under no circumstances could he let himself be trapped into revealing that grievous indiscretion, accidental or not. He took a sip of his iced tea to buy time. With a little calm he found his way forward, "You offered me a deal and I agreed to do my homework on the subject and consider it. Now I have and I wonder if the deal is still on the table."

The truth, but not the truth he wanted to avoid telling her at all costs.

She blinked rapidly, then sat back in her chair to consider him with raised eyebrows. "I'm hardly one to go back on my word, as you now know."

"So you'll honor your end?"

She nodded slowly, "I will. Are you prepared for your part?"

Cameron took a deep breath and looked down a the plans rolled out on the table between them. "I believe I am now, yes."

He looked back up into her eyes and behind the expression of the business woman, her hope blazed like a beacon.

It had to be the right thing to do. If nothing else and he was completely wrong about her, it would be the litmus test he needed. If she backed out or hedged, he would know who she was, once and for all.

She extended her hand to him over the table and waited with it hovering there.

Cameron took a breath, hoped he was not making a terrible mistake, and grasped her palm in his fingers. She squeezed his digits, and he hers, and he felt the warmth of her skin against his own.

He had held on too long, for she was looking intently at him and an optimistic flare of a seemingly more personal nature shone now in more nervous eyes.

Now that he knew what he was looking at, her feelings for him were clear as day.

No one had ever looked at him that way. No one had valued Cameron Gold, wanted Cameron Gold. And she did.

And he thought of kissing her, quietly hidden behind the stacks in the depth of their library.

He pulled his hand away, but with care not to appear hasty about it.

"So what next?" 

He feared he had spoken too softly to be heard above the buzz of the diner, but she responded easily.

"I will put our proposal on the agenda for the next city council meeting and then we should have a more in depth conversation, in private, about how best to approach this." Innocence, that was what he was seeing in her eyes. An innocent desire for everything to turn out for the best.

And that was the moment he first felt genuine trust toward her.

He nodded, "When would you like to meet?"

"Tomorrow evening after work, in my shop?"

"Will my son be welcome?"

"Always." Her satisfaction pleased him and made his insides quiver.

A handful of steps outside the diner, Regina caught up to him. Not a surprise really.

"Cameron!"

He stopped to let her catch up.

"Madame Mayor."

"Please, Regina is fine." She licked her lips and concerned eyes tracked his. "Do you need help? Does she have something on you? You can tell me. I will do whatever I can, but you'll have to tell me what she's got on you."

Cameron considered her for a long moment. "There's nothing, it's not like that."

He had no need to pretend that the whole diner had not just seen him seal a deal with Storybrooke's most notorious resident.

"It's always like that! She never does anything without making it work for her in four different ways. Let me help you."

Cameron thought back to what Belle had said about Regina not being a bad mayor, but simply one with divergent obligations and interests from Belle's own.

"Actually, Regina," Cameron dared to use the name she had just given him, "I think I may have just helped you, at hopefully no cost to myself." He paused a moment in thought, hoping he had not overestimated the value of the cards in his hands. "If you wanted to offer me any help, what I do need is the benefit of the doubt. I might," he swallowed hard, feeling uncertain, "be exactly what you need."

Cameron had never considered himself particularly brave, but the prosperity Belle envisioned for Storybrooke meant a better life for his son and Cameron would do whatever it took for his family.

Regina fretted openly, "Did she threaten your son?"

He jerked back in astonishment. "No! Of course not. Why would you think that?"

She looked away and drew a long breath in before blowing it out. "Listen, I know you're sleeping with her-"

"What?!" Cameron spluttered and choked.

Regina frowned and tilted her head in exasperation, "I saw her leaving your home in the morning. I knew she'd want something in return for the break she's giving you on the rent, but I did not think she'd go that far. Gods, Cameron, let me help you before you're in so deep you won't ever see clear of her."

Cameron would have been unmanageably angry if Regina had not seemed so clearly sincere in her concern. As it was, Cameron blew out a calming breath before responding. This was his boss he was talking to, after all.

"I want there to be no misunderstanding here." Cameron looked her straight in the eyes without equivocation, "I have never slept with Belle French." He almost added that he never would, but that stuck in his throat so he paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. "Belle came over that night to help me when I needed it. She never asked for anything in return. She cleaned a significantly messy diaper situation after I passed out from exhaustion. Then she put my son to bed before falling asleep on the couch, probably because she too was exhausted. Nothing happened. She's asked for nothing in return."

Cameron stared as hard at the mayor as he dared.

"Seriously?" Regina seemed to be sorting a lot of information internally and she all but muttered, "I was fairly certain she had designs on you."

It was everything Cameron could do to stay calm and not betray that he knew Belle very much did have an interest in him. "That would be a conversation you'd have to have with Ms. French. Though, if you are still offering help. I would appreciate it if you had a word with your sister about keeping her hands to herself."

He winced after that last sentence left his lips. He had meant it as a deflection, but it came out a bit thornier than he would have preferred. 

But Regina only shook her head and smiled wryly, "I'll talk to Zelena. You're right about that." She frowned and looked off over his shoulder in thought, "Look, I don't know what your business is with Ms. French, but I am concerned for you. The French family has been throttling this town with an iron fist for two generations now and mayor or not, my ability to help you is limited. It's even more limited if you don't let me in."

He could see Regina's sincerity clearly in her face. "Regina," he tried on her name in hopes of reaching her, "thank you. Really, thank you. But I do not believe Ms. French is a danger to myself or my family. I know there is a great deal of animosity paralyzing this town. Would you be willing to consider that I might be able to help?"

Regina met his eyes and held them, "I am beyond delighted that you want to. I am only afraid that you might not know what you've gotten yourself into. Please come to me, please, if-" she broke off with a frown, "Ms. French is smart. She is incredibly capable at managing her assets and maneuvering herself toward her own advantage. Did she tell you we play chess together? She has a nasty habit of winning. I'm not ashamed to say so either because I can appreciate her talents. But damn-it Cameron, just don't find yourself in a position you can't escape. Ok?"

He smiled at her, appreciating for himself that she cared. "Thank you. I hear you. I really do. I know I'm young and I sure as hell hope I'm headed in the right direction on this. But I truly believe I am."

Regina sighed, "Ok. Just call, if, if anything gets weird."

"I will." And Cameron meant it. This was a litmus test. He did not think he was wrong about Belle, but if he was, Regina would be the first to know about it.


	13. Chapter 13

A hustling storm cloud of irate mayor blew into her shop setting off the bell above the door as if she meant to shatter it.

"Just let me move the breakables out of the path of your rage, Madame Mayor, shall I?" Belle smirked.

"Cut the crap, Belle." Regina slammed a copy of Belle's amendment to the agenda down on the counter between them. "I want to known why you are dragging a dead horse to my meeting, then I want to know what dirt you have on Cameron Gold such that you forced him to make a deal with you. And I demand you be clear and concise about it."

This display was one of the reasons Belle earnestly liked Regina. Forthright, no bullshit.

Belle smiled mockingly at the elegant and neatly attired woman before her. She held up her fingers to tick off her points one at a time.

"Number one, I have the right to add items to the agenda. Number two, dead is subject to interpretation. Number three, nothing."

She clicked her teeth together audibly and with great satisfaction.

Regina fumed, color rising in her cheeks.

"I said cut the crap. I'm not selling you that land and we both know it. That means you want something from Gold, what is it?" Bright eyes bore into Belle's.

"You're going to sell me that land. And I want Mr. Gold's investment in the wellbeing of this town. Same as you." The exhilaration of watching Regina grind her teeth filled Belle with a sense of purpose and surety.

Not backing down an inch, Regina leaned over the counter to invade Belle's personal space, right in her face. "Whatever you do to Gold, I will find out and extract it from your hide. If you think you can ram your little project through somehow, you will find yourself summarily thwarted. And I will thwart you, Belle, no matter where you try to slither. I am drawing the line. If you so much as make Gold uncomfortable in his chair, you'll feel my boot in your ass."

Belle could not restrain her delighted giggle, "Regina! My, my! I can hardly believe it! If I didn't know better I would say your interest in our sheriff had waned. Oh, it hasn't, I see. You really should do something about that or move on." Belle pushed her nose to within an inch of Regina's. She whispered, "I commend your diligence in protecting your interests. Just remember that I look after mine with extreme prejudice."

Regina gave her a falsely sweet smile, "I guard mine just as jealously."

Belle gave the other woman a good humored grinned and straightened up and away from her. "In all seriousness Regina, Emma's all you ever talk about anymore, but as far as I see you have done nothing. It's been three years since she arrived. If you ever mean to win a chess game again, you need to sort this out."

Regina gave Belle a huge sigh and dropped her head in a dejected flop, "I know. You tell me that every month. But what if she isn't into me? She's a city employee and I'm the mayor!"

"That excuse is beyond tired. Everyone in this town is down the chain of command from you in one way or another. That's the problem with being on the top of the heap. Look, I've offered before and I'm serious about it, do you want me to see if I can find out if she's interested?" Belle softened her tone hoping to get the other woman to look up at her.

At last she did. "Alright. Alright."

Regina's voice was tiny, barely there at all but Belle let a huge smile bloom across her face. "Finally! Consider it done! Maybe you'll stop being so damned distracted and become a worthy opponent again. You used to win at least occasionally."

Regina blushed openly and stood away from the counter. "Thanks. I'm serious about Gold though, you hurt him, I'll have you for breakfast."

"I know your serious, Regina, I appreciate that about you. Now get out of my shop so I can go pay Emma a visit."

The sheriff was licking the remains of a donut from her fingers and typing one handed with a disgusted look on her face when Belle arrived.

"Emma, how's business?"

"Busy. As you well know. I hate paperwork. Even if it's all computerized now. Vandals tried to mural the cannery again last night. I keep asking the mayor for the funds to mount security cameras at least for the area, but I know she doesn't have the bucks for it." Emma elbowed the donut box in her direction, "Hungry?"

"Not for that," Belle perched on the edge of Emma's messy desk. "I may very soon be in a position to do better than security cameras."

Emma's eyes jerked away from her screen and into sharp focus, "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she leaned forward intently, "The city will likely soon have the funds it needs for that deputy you've been wanting."

"And how do you know that?" Cop suspicion made a stereotype of Emma's face.

"Because Regina's going to sell me both the cannery and the land next to the library."

"Bullshit. She'll never sell either of those to you, let alone both, you've tried before." Emma snorted and licked some stray maple syrup from the side of a glazed donut hole.

"I'm about to make her an offer. See what you think at the next council meeting. It'll be entertaining at the very least." Belle felt giddy.

"I heard you've been trying to poach her little Scotsman, this wouldn't have anything to do with that, would it?" Emma's eyes remained narrow but they sparkled.

"I think we both know the Scotsman in question isn't her type." Belle evaded neatly and set Emma up in the same breath.

"Isn't he?" Emma colored and Belle saw it.

"Give it up, Emma, I know all about your pining. Just ask her already! You know she can't ask you, she's your boss. She has quite the stick up her posterior about protocol. The whole town is tired of watching the two of you dance around each other. Give us something new to gossip about, please!" Belle chided the uncomfortable sheriff with glee.

"You really think she wouldn't fire me on the spot?" The quiet voice was adorable.

"I have reason to believe your job is quite safe. Get on with it." If she could do nothing for her own travesty of a love life, she could at least meddle to the benefit of two good people.

"Do you think Mr. Gold is serious about opening the library on Halloween?"

"Why yes I do. What an excellent opportunity to engage the mayor's company for an evening. Don't you think?" Belle made no effort to hide her broad grin. She was a sucker for love and she knew it. Entirely too much reading was to blame. "It'll be quite the soirée."

"And you?" Emma deflected, but Belle felt confident the seed had been successfully planted.

"Who would want anything to do with a monster like me? Come on, you know better than that and so do I." Belle went for light trying to keep her true melancholy from showing. With her mission accomplished, Belle hopped down off the desk. Better to depart before the astute sheriff noticed that Belle had more thoughts on that matter than she should. "I have my daily cat herding to attend to, Sheriff, so I'll bid you good day."

"You know, since you're so free in giving me unasked for advice, I'm going to give you some." At this, Belle turned back to face Emma. "You could try on a different image for yourself, you know. I get called about you all the time, so I know what your dealings are like. You're damned prickly about it because you choose to be, not because you're some kind of crooked monster. As you call yourself. What about a re-branding of sorts? You could make an effort. Any effort at all."

"That, Emma, is a fruitless endeavor. I tried it twenty years ago and it got me nowhere. We all have our places and I know mine, but thanks all the same. See you at the meeting." Belle departed, hopefully before Emma saw how close her comment had come to the mark.


	14. Chapter 14

It was fifteen minutes after six and he still had yet to arrive. Belle paced nervously in the back room of her shop. Asking him to meet her for dinner for what could be communicated in about three sentences was a very thin excuse to see him indeed. She wanted to bundle him out of Storybrooke under the guise of privacy and into a little Thai restaurant she liked in the next town down the coast, but she had more sense than that. For now.

As it was her palms sweated and her heart raced at the memory of his rich brown eyes when he told her he had finished reading about her. Surely she had not imagined the heat in his gaze.

For gods' sakes, Belle, you're not fourteen.

The admonishment made no difference.

Her eyes stung at the thought that just maybe she had succeeded in creating an ally for herself in this town. Hell, in this world. She was trying so hard not to assume that he would have any interest in even a friendship with her just because he had tentatively agreed to her proposal as a business partner.

Reading too much into an expression or a touch was for children and she had left childhood behind far too many years ago for such nonsense.

But it could not be helped.

She sucked in a startled breath when the bell above her door chimed. She blew it back out and settled her clothing into place before striding through the curtain to greet, hopefully, him.

And it was. From his stroller, Brandon's wide baby eyes stared around at all the shiny surfaces of the shop and his adorable smile made her melt. "Cameron! Brandon! Excellent. Did your day go well?"

Belle crossed the room quickly to smile right in Brandon's face. He rewarded her by grabbing her nose and giving her a baby hiccuping laugh.

Cameron's rich chuckle caused her heart to stutter for several beats and she booped Brandon's nose before straightening to meet his father's amused eyes.

"I'd say yes for myself," Cameron began, "I am beginning to feel my deadline even though opening is a month away. I brought us dinner, by the way."

Her eyebrows shot up in delight and she followed Cameron's pointing finger to a tell-tale Granny's bag tucked into the mesh hanging from the stroller handles.

"That's perfect!" Belle's heart thudded in her chest. "There's about an hour of daylight left, have the two of you found the playground near our neighborhood yet?"

"As a matter of fact we haven't, we were-" Cameron cut himself off conspicuously, looked uncomfortable, but then continued, "We haven't made it that far in our exploration, maybe you'd like to show it to us?"

"I tell you what, let me grab my things and then you two can follow me there?" Belle pretended not to notice Cameron's odd discomfort.

Fifteen minutes later Belle led Cameron across the grass to a picnic table at the border of the small playground. Watching Cameron eye the baby swings made Belle's insides tremble, though she tried to suppress it. They sat facing the woods with Brandon ensconced in his usual carrier. Belle wondered how long before he outgrew it and how his father would manage him then.

"This should be fairly simple from your perspective." Belle began gently as Cameron laid out food between them including two generous slices of pie which Belle eyed with intent. "Regina will call for tabling my agenda item as a dead horse, not wishing to waste the council's time further. I'll make my arguments again for the city selling me the property. Regina will refuse because she wants the land for housing."

Cameron nodded, listening and getting out a container of baby food for Brandon while he did so.

"At that point," Belle continued, "you will propose to the council exactly what you proposed to me: that I make low income units available from my current holdings in exchange for the sale of the land. I will consider it, we'll negotiate and it will be done."

"You really think she'll bite?"

"Regina thinks I have designs on you." Cameron began choking on his macaroni and cheese. Concerned, Belle rubbed his back until he calmed and she was certain he was alright. "She saw me leaving your house that morning and I intend to capitalize on her assumptions. If she thinks I'm trying to accomplish something with you, for whatever reason, she'll think I may make a deal I wouldn't otherwise make toward that end. And more importantly, she will try to back you up any way she can against me. We give her two ways to take advantage of me and it's a done deal."

"And just suggesting the deal to her behind closed doors, leaving me out of the whole mess wouldn't get the job done with much less underhanded deviousness?" Cameron had recovered from his choking with aggressive sips of his beverage.

"Sadly, we are many years beyond the point of trusting each other's motives. If I did that she'd turn me down out of sheer suspicion. I've beaten her at chess too many times over too many years." He was right though, it would be much better if she and Regina could simply work together. Not to be though, and she knew it. If everything went well, Emma would pipe up and seal the deal. But Cameron did not need to know about her back up plan.

He blew out a breath. "I've read, deal after deal, year after year, how the two of you have traded swats like stray cats in an alley. When you boil it down, it's ridiculous. And inefficient."

"Quite," Belle agreed. The clouded sky above them was darkening rapidly with both dusk and probably rain. "Maybe, with time and care, you could be what brings us into closer alignment."

"Me?" Cameron wiped at his son's messy face. "You actually think that's possible? Or that I want to be a political implement between you two? I want what's right for this town, specifically for its poor, but I have no desire to be a pawn. To either of you."

She understood his frown and his perspective. "Pawns don't know they're pawns, Cameron. I have too much respect for you for that. Regina probably does too. You might be more of a knight, don't you think?"

Belle did not hide her flirtatious smile from him.

Cameron sighed. "Pawn or knight, you're both still using me."

"Only if you don't use the two of us for what you want in return. Which I encourage you to do."

He turned to look at her, deeply look at her and her breath caught in her throat. "And if that's not what I want? If I don't want to use people?"

Her voice softened to meet his intensity, "Then you'll find your own label for how you get your needs met. I'm just blunt about mine because I tire of turd polishing. Everyone has needs and everyone negotiates to get those needs met. Me, you, Regina, all of us. Ultimately we figure out who has good intentions and who doesn't and we maneuver our allies just as we maneuver our enemies. That's life." Belle watched Brandon for a moment to catch his gaze. When she was successful, she smiled and was rewarded with a baby smile in return. "I think it's a matter of respect and honesty. I will always work toward my interests and you can trust that about me. I respect you and your interests. That doesn't mean we will always agree, but respect keeps the door open between us."

"And how is the door open between you and Regina?" A good question and Belle thought about it.

"You recall I told you that Regina and I play chess together?" He nodded. "We talk about things other than our political interests during those games. Which is why I think she loses so often. But anyway, neither of us has ever canceled a game except for reasons of illness and we always reschedule. That's respect. And that's the open door."

"You'll understand if I feel daunted by this." Cameron murmured.

"You're nobody's fool, Cameron. But hey, enough of this for now. I'm delighted about your decision to open the library on Halloween."

Cameron beamed at her. "You think the town will go for it?"

"I have a feeling." She loved his smile and her hand shot out to push his hair out of his eyes before she could stop herself. A flood of embarrassment nearly drowned her so she rushed to cover her impertinence, "Emma particularly mentioned it. Could be the social event of the season."

Cameron sat frozen and blushing but recovered quickly enough, "Say, I want to see what Brandon thinks of the swings before it gets too dark."

Belle tried to hide her own trembling and get her heart to slow down. She should not have done that. She definitely should not have done that. "He'll probably love them. I'll get this cleared away and join you in a moment."

Cameron hastily took the out she offered and Belle mentally slapped herself for getting carried away. That was a bad slip up.

She took longer than she really needed to clean up in order to recover and calm down before she shyly approached father and son.

Cameron was gently rocking the swing back and forth and when Belle came around, Brandon saw her and broke out into a wet grin.

"I'd say he likes it." Belle stood beside Cameron, but not too close.

Unrestrained joy painted Cameron's face and he turned his smile on her. "I think so! His papa certainly does."

Her insides started trembling again, uncontrollably. "I wish I'd had a father like you, Cameron."

He caught Brandon to still the motion of the swing and suddenly he was looking down at her, straight into her eyes and he was closer than she had planned. His mouth parted like he was about to speak and Belle's breath sped up as she stared, transfixed by him.

She had to be imagining this, he could not possibly-

A huge fat drop of water hit her on the cheek and she jumped. Belle shook her head and swiped at her face to dry herself, but more drops began falling in rapid succession in loud splats all around them.

"I think it's time to go," Belle said pulling herself together. She could not think on what might have just happened.

"Yes, of course it is. Sorry Brandon, we'll come back another day. I promise." Cameron retrieved his now whining child and held him close as they began a dash for their vehicles.

They bustled to get everything off the table and out of the rain but both adults were soaked and shivering before it was done. She turned to look up at him, "I need a hot shower."

"Me too," Cameron smiled, then laughed and wiped some rain from his own face. "I'll see you."

"Good night, Cameron."


	15. Chapter 15

It was done. As she had promised him, Belle French had agreed to provide low-income housing in front of the entire town. He had seen the shocked stares, especially from the mayor, around the room. Not a few were looking at him. They could all probably see his heartbeat throbbing in the veins of his overheated face. Belle might have said this would be simple, but that did not mean it was easy for him. 

Regina had continued to flick her gaze back and forth between Belle and Cameron for the remainder of the meeting. The gears clicking and whirring in her head were all but audible and Cameron knew without a doubt that Regina was about to start digging. He had to wonder if, no, how long it would take for her to discover Belle's actual motives. Whatever her propensity for losing at chess, the mayor had a capable mind which she put to good use. She would ferret out Belle's feelings toward him. And then what would she do?

Cameron had a sick feeling Regina would use Belle's vulnerability like a lever. And he was the lever.

That was, if there was anything left to hide by the time the mayor figured it out. Now that this deal was done, that Belle had kept her word (again), Cameron had to decide what to do about it. She could be trusted as a business partner, but that left other inconvenient feelings to consider.

His heart sped up at his oblique thoughts on the subject. Direct scrutiny would have to wait.

Cameron had stolen away after the meeting as quickly as he could to take Brandon upstairs for a change. His son probably could have held out until they got home, but Cameron could not stay in that crowd of eager gazes and sleeve tugging another second longer. The entire town had their noses twitching for gossip like rats catching a whiff of unattended cheese. He hoped they would all be gone by the time he had finished because everyone wanted a piece of the guy who got the infamous Belle French to pay attention to the needs of the poor.

Each and every one of their beady little eyes stabbed into him thinking they could be the one to bust him wide open.

Being the center of attention did not sit well with Cameron Gold and why he had not seen that coming he did not know. He felt petrified.

Brandon picked up on his papa's stress, of course and the quizzical little brow wrinkled up in concern was too adorable for words. Cameron picked him up off the changing table and cuddled him to comfort them both.

He had very nearly kissed Belle that rainy night in the park and he suspected he was one emotional banana peel away from falling irrevocably for her. But then there was Brandon. He was not free to make a mess of his life over a woman anymore. Any choice he made would affect his son and a parade of women dodging in and out of Brandon's life would not make for the best example never mind stability. Belle came with a considerable amount of baggage and an enormous shadow that would effect his son socially.

But could today be the template for Belle's future with this town? Was Belle desperately grasping at the chance to remake herself just like he was? And if so, could she do it? Twenty years worth of animosity did not evaporate over night.

He wanted to hope for her and he had seen her yearning when she looked at him. Still, change was hard to come by for anyone.

Cameron wanted to think he had more spine than to care what a town whispered behind his back, but he knew better. He had had quite enough of suffering under his own father's reputation. This was a chance to earn some respect and social standing. If he became her errand boy in the eyes of the town, that would not happen. Throwing away his fresh start would be a foolish waste and damaging to his son. He had to be careful.

He was sweating.

He gathered up his resolve and went back downstairs to leave.

But he heard voices. And he knew to whom they belonged. Cameron stopped out of sight around the corner to wait. Brandon was chewing a hand and quiet for the moment, so he hoped they would leave quickly rather than discover him listening in.

"-told you you'd sell. Now, was that so painful?" Belle sounded happy, but not gloating.

"I suspect it's not me who'll be in pain over this later. I don't know how you got the Scotsman involved, but I will find out, and any discomfort I discover will be visited upon you directly." Regina sounded more sincere than threatening.

The smile Belle's in voice was clearly evident, even without his seeing it. "I'll be certain to keep his pillows fluffed and his fridge stocked. You won't find anything Regina because as I've told you, I've nothing on him. Go ahead and dig though, since I know you will anyway. I've got that Scotch I promised you for tomorrow night, by the way. Maybe, if I like it enough, you'll get lucky."

Cameron heard a choking noise.

"Not like that! My good Sheriff, she hasn't won a game in far too long and I'm certain to be in the drinking mood. Good night, Regina. Emma." 

Boot heels clicked down the hall and a door opened and shut before the conversation resumed.

"Please tell me you found something. Anything."

"Regina, she's clean. She's been clean for twenty years and she submitted boxes of records to the city archive to prove it. We've been over this." The sheriff tried to comfort the mayor.

"We have to be missing something. Her father was so dirty you could smell him from across the street! No one could swamp out that much filth and stay above board." Regina's indignant frustration echoed in the quiet hallway.

"And you and I went over every single violation she filed on him and every corrective action she took! It's almost like she has integrity or something. Regina, we may not like her attitude and you may find her political clout annoying, but she is nothing if not thorough and transparent."

"I know, damn it!" A loud sigh. "That's why this stinks. She has never behaved like this. Not ever. Belle French has never let improving her image get in the way of being a pain in my ass. It doesn't make sense. She just gave me what she should have given me years ago but she used the young Scotsman to do it! Why?"

Because she's desperate for an ally? Cameron thought maybe that could be part of it, but Belle French was nothing if not layered. She had fallen for him, changed her mind about how she wanted to use him and then still managed to be effective in doing so. Stranger still, he did not resent her for it. Probably only because he knew how she felt about him, but the fact remained.

He wondered if he would ever be in a position to ask her what she had hoped to achieve aside from the obvious. Regina was right, there was much more to it than getting a land sale to go ahead which had been stalled for years.

Cameron feared they would hear Brandon slurping on his fingers in the momentary silence.

"What if," the Sheriff began quietly, "it's not her who has something on the librarian, but the librarian who has something on her?"

"Now that, Emma, is an interesting thought. I love how your mind works." Regina gave it a moment's thought but then she said, "But what can he possibly have on her? He's a kid and a kid who's been here half a year."

"He has her library."

Cameron's breath caught in his throat. Why had he not thought of that? What had she said? That she had thought to be the one to reopen and run the library herself? He shook his head, thoughts churning.

He did not want to believe she would undermine him. She sounded genuine and her feelings seemed so obvious. Her attempts to hide them were all but school girlish. Nothing in his library was worth the two in the morning diaper duty she had performed for him. How could he know for sure?

But Regina was speaking again, "-does at that. She wants a bigger say in how the place is run. I suppose it's a matter of time before she finds a way to become his boss and take the library away from the city completely. That agenda might merit the concession we saw today. Maybe. But she plays a very long game and I doubt she'd get distracted from her tourist trap plans, even for her library. There has to be something more to it than even that."

She's in love. That was the only thing Cameron could think of that made sense. What could possibly motivate a lonely person more than love?

"I don't know, Regina. We might be overthinking this. She's had a hard on for that library as long as it's been closed from what I can tell. I bet she's bitter as hell you hired a librarian before she could. And I doubt, considering the state of her empire that, even if she made some colossal fuck-ups refitting that library, her tourism plans would suffer much. She's fucking Napoleon around here."

"Where there's a Napoleon, there's a snowy, snowy Russia. We just have to make sure that when she gets lost, we don't sink with her."

He heard boots shifting on the floor, then the Sheriff said, "Do you think Any Given Sundae is still open? All this talk of snow, well, any excuse for ice cream."

"You eat like a child, Emma. But that doesn't mean it's not a good idea."

The two women laughed as their footfalls echoed toward the doors. Open then shut.

Cameron was left alone at last and he waited until he saw Leroy with his janitorial cart giving him the stink eye before moving along.

He had to figure out what to do. Quickly. Cameron had felt protective of Belle as he listened; it seemed like she had been through quite enough. But did he feel strongly enough for her to take the risk for himself and his son?

Brandon had been asleep for an hour yet Cameron had not budged from the rocking chair.

He remembered wondering if she were mafia, but mob bosses did not clean up after dirty individuals like Belle's father had been. He had seen the evidence. Read it with his own eyes. Belle had a very long history of keeping her word and honoring her contracts. A politician, sure, but mob bosses also were not alone. They had massive apparatuses to do their bidding. Or was that just what he knew from the movies?

No, of that part he was certain. Mob bosses were never loan operators and Belle was most definitely alone.

Not a criminal and not mafia.

That left a her to be a lonely politician in love. With him.

Guilt pressed down on him as the thought that he could just pursue her if he did not have a child floated through his tired brain. He loved Brandon and nothing would convince him that his life would have been better without his son. But it would have been simpler, perhaps.

Could Belle earn her way out from under the ire of her town?

Cameron wanted to believe and he fell asleep wanting to know what it would be like to kiss her.

When he opened the door to go to work in the morning a large, fabric covered object on his porch blocked his path. Brandon giggled and kicked from where he dangled in his front carrier.

He had a feeling about it, and he was right.

Beneath the fabric was the beautiful antique spinning wheel from Belle's shop. And some wool. And a note.

My Dear Spinner,

I wanted to catch you after the meeting yesterday to congratulate you, but you disappeared. I am so proud of you and of what we accomplished. It takes a great deal of courage to stand up for what you believe in and everyone in town saw you do it. I got dinner at Granny's on my way home and you were all anyone was talking about. About how brave you are and about how things might change for the better now that you're here. And yes, about how someone needed to stand up to me. And to Regina. I saw a caring young man in you and I am not disappointed. The whole town knows it now and I have no doubt you'll get elected to the council in no time at all. I've been wanting you to have this since I saw you spinning but I lacked the excuse, truthfully the courage, to give it to you. You just gave the poor in this town shelter before winter, so it seems like the right time. With the stalemate between Regina and myself broken at last, everyone in this town will benefit. I truly hope you understand how important yesterday was to this town. I'm still smiling about it and when you go to work today, you'll see everyone else's smiles too. Enjoy them. You earned them.

Yours,

Belle

Cameron stared at the note, then at the spinning wheel and then back again. He kissed the top of Brandon's head and rocked for a moment staring at the wheel.

Being loved intoxicated him. He had never experienced it before, but it felt like the first ray of sunlight in spring after a bitterly cold winter. Could he spend his days reading notes like this one? Spend his evenings spinning yarn for a scarf to keep her from the bite of Maine winters? Would she stand in the sunshine beside him, holding his hand?

Cameron wanted this for himself and he wanted it for her. Brandon was so young, if it did not last long, he would not even remember. But if it did work, years later would he remember Belle as his mother?

He ran a hand over the smooth wood of the wheel. Even not knowing what to do, Belle had taken his screaming child from his exhausted arms and done what she could. Unasked and expecting nothing in return.

Yes, Belle was a politician, but that did not exclude her from having a huge heart. And she loved him with it. Cameron folded the note and put it in his pocket.

Then he frowned at the wheel and wondered what to do because he could not move it by himself without dragging it and damaging it.

The early morning sunlight set the hardwood floor of her shop alight.

He smiled at her where she stood polishing some silver on one of her counters.

"There he is! Our hero!" Belle bustled out to grasp his elbow in greeting.

"That might be an exaggeration, but I'm glad you think so." Cameron fell silent as he looked into her eyes. Today it felt comfortable, just looking at her. He smiled and teased her, "I believe you misplaced some of your inventory this morning."

"Oh? What makes you say that? Did you see my herd of furniture running for their lives down Main Street?" Amusement suited her.

"I wish I had! That would be quite a sight. No, but someone left me a calling card on my porch signed by you, so I figured you were responsible."

"Could be a forgery, you know. The town is rife with miscreants." Belle played along.

"I have reason to believe it is the genuine article."

"Do you now?"

Cameron withdrew her note from his pocket and pointed to her salutation. "You're the only one in town who knows I spin. Admit it, you're guilty."

"I am!" Belle gave him a toothy smile and danced back behind the counter to pick up where she had left off her polishing. "What's it to you?"

"Beautiful." Cameron murmured automatically in reply.

She dropped her gaze, "You like it then. I'm glad. Would you like me to send Mr. Dove by to get it situated for you?"

Cameron sighed in gratitude, he had not wanted to have to ask her outright for this help. "Thank you, yes. I would hate for it to be stolen off my front porch before I could ever get use out of it."

"I'll see to it."

He held onto the image of the way she looked at him as he left her shop.

He had not been at work for more than fifteen minutes before it started. And it continued all day.

Belle had been right. The citizenry of Storybrooke prevented him from getting on with the urgent and last minute tasks he had planned for the final two weeks before the reopening with their smiles and back slaps and suggestions and long, drawn-out stories about how things used to be under Belle's father but now that he was there, how things would change.

You broke a thirty year old curse!

You've got guts, and a nice ass!

I've already applied for housing because of you.

French is going down at last!

When are you running for city council? Or mayor?

If Regina tries to fire you, we've got your back.

Don't worry about Belle, you're one of us now and we'll take care of you.

I need my fence fixed but the city won't do anything about it.

He should have locked the door and gotten on with his business, but he did not have the heart to shut out the town. They had come to his library, looked around and smiled. Just like Belle had said. He now had people coming to him for help and hope. They talked to him about future services, about wanting to volunteer, about wanting to donate and about wanting to use the new spaces downstairs for everything under the sun from clubs to lectures.

A better introduction to the town he could not have imagined or planned for himself. His grand opening had been rendered redundant. And he could not have been happier.

He had thought to open on Halloween, hang a few decorations, offer some candy and host school visits during the day. Now Granny and her brigade were going to throw the Halloween Bash in the library that evening. Ruby would be there tomorrow with the decorations.


	16. Chapter 16

November first dawned brightly. Very brightly. Cameron rolled over with a groan and the day before flooded back into his exhausted mind.

When Ruby had said decorations, she should have said remodeling.

His library had been buried in fixtures and installations. Enormous spiders hung from the ceiling. The basement had been turned into a graveyard with each meeting room its own themed mausoleum. A game room had replaced the Storybrooke Historical Reference Room and had converted it into an undead night club populated by hosts in skeleton costumes. All but frothing at the mouth costumed guests played for door prizes like free dinners at Granny's and a girls' or boys' night out at the Rabbit hole. Instead of his newly organized stacks upstairs, a haunted forest fairyland had grown out of the shelves with hidden treats for everyone to find.

Zelena had sold raffle tickets and apparently had raised quite a bit of money for the library. He had not even looked at the prizes. It had been a madhouse. Regina herself had distracted the fire-marshals with free drinks at one point while she had a crowd conspicuously moved out into the parking lot to dance until they left. And then the marshals came back in costume to join the party.

He had not thought he and Brandon would need costumes for the relatively low key event he had planned, but Ariel and Mary were appalled and raided some closets to fix the oversight.

When they were done with him he had somehow ended up a seventeenth century nobleman with sparkly gold skin while poor Brandon had been adorably transformed into a little fairy complete with wings. The pictures were sure to be incriminating. He could not wait to see them.

Cameron did not want to think about the state of his circulation desk. It had been so piled high in food and treats not an inch could be seen. The kegs had been housed in the elevator itself.

Clean up would take him the next six months at which point he would have to throw yet another grand opening. A complete disaster.

But he was smiling.

No cleaning today though. Today was a Saturday and he had told everyone at the party that he could not possibly be open, and he meant it.

The brightness outside turned out to be a brilliant white frost that coated everything. First of the season. Breathtaking.

So Cameron decided to take advantage. Brandon had never seen frost before. A perfect day for a walk.

The trail in the woods behind the neighborhood did not disappoint. Newly bare trees looked truly skeletal in their pure white coats of frost and everything sparkled. Brandon shrieked happily at the new sights.

And so they walked while Cameron related inappropriate anecdotes from the night before to his still preverbal child. Though that was growing less true by the day as his son babbled up a steady stream in reply to his father.

He heard a crunching of leaves approaching them and turned to see who it could be. He did not think anyone would be up this early after the amount of alcohol consumed last night. If not for Brandon needing his father to be functional, Cameron would be in no better case this morning.

But the interloper was the one person notably absent from the festivities: Belle French.

"Well hello gentlemen!" She called brightly to them as she approached. "What a beautiful morning. And no one egged my house last night. Can you believe it?"

She said the last to his suspended son as she caught his little mittened hands in hers and smiled right in his face. Brandon gave a delighted yip and a laugh.

"Good morning, Belle. It certainly is gorgeous out. We thought we'd take a walk and it seems you had the same idea."

"Indeed I did, may I join you?"

"I insist." Cameron told her cordially and extended his free elbow toward her. To his delight, she took it.

"So, how did it go?" Belle sounded genuinely enthusiastic and like she really cared how it went.

So why had she not come?

But Cameron did not voice his thoughts yet about that. Instead he said, "I will be cleaning for weeks." She laughed. "But I think the entire town came. Ruby said she would put up a few decorations and that Granny's would cater, but those were vicious lies. She moved every even remotely Halloween themed artifact to be found within the city limits into my library. I couldn't even see my books. And I think the whole town catered. Not just Granny."

Her cheeks were flushed with the cold air and her eyes sparkled like the frost. "Do I miss my guess or does it sound to me like you had a good time?"

He glanced sidelong at her and grumbled good-naturedly, "I suppose I did, after all. But it could have been better."

Belle raised both eyebrows at him, "Our small town efforts aren't party enough for you, Mr. Gold?"

"Oh, I have no complaints about the wildness of Storybrooke's party scene. It was more what was missing. Or rather, who was missing." He stopped and faced her directly, "I waited all day to see you and then all evening but you never came. I know how much this library means to you so you can understand if I was a bit bewildered."

She looked away, "Ah, yes. Well. I did not wish to cast a pall on your day, Cameron. I'm never wanted at these kinds of things. I'll make it up to you though, how about I help you clean?"

Cameron's heart was suddenly flapping its wings wildly trying to escape his chest. He ignored her comment about cleaning. "How could you think I wouldn't want you there?"

"That's nice to hear Cameron, but I'd have been nothing but a drag on the mood. I stopped going to such functions years ago because no one wants the person everyone owes rent to reminding them of that. I try not to find myself where I'm not wanted."

Cameron stepped closer to her and squeezed her shoulders gently. Of course that put Brandon within reach of her hood's draw string, which he grabbed immediately. Belle glanced down for only a second though and then fixed her gaze on Cameron with uncertainty in her eyes.

"I know what it's like to be unwanted." Cameron swallowed away the fear and pushed forward, needing to discharge his guilty secret. He had to tell her. "It was only recently that I experienced what it is like to be, to be welcome for the first time." He closed his eyes against her confused expression for a moment trying not to lose his nerve. "There's something I have to tell you."

"Is something wrong, Cameron?" Her voice sounded small, even close as they were.

"No, no." He kneaded her shoulders, "Just let me say this. I, uh," he looked away from her and swallowed past a bolder which had lodged itself in his throat. "I heard you."

He meant to go on, to explain but he found he had to catch his breath after that tiny admission.

"What? What are you talking about?"

He brought his gaze back to hers with effort. "I took Brandon out on these trails late in the summer and we had a picnic and then we fell asleep for a little while. When I woke up, I heard your voice."

Belle had frozen stock still.

"Belle I feel so bad about this, but maybe something good can come of it. I heard what you told your mother. About me."

"Oh, gods!" Belle pulled away and covered her mouth with a gloved hand. Tears had started in her eyes and her breath came in huge white whooshes into the air. She took several unsteady steps away from him tearing the strings from Brandon's grip.

"Belle, please, I just. I want to say that for the first time in my life I felt worth something to someone. The first time. I can't just stand here and listen to you say no one wants you around when I do. When I wanted your company, very badly in fact. And, I'm not saying this well, but I wish you had been there."

Cameron leaned on his cane and edged closer to where she stood staring wide eyed at him now.

She whispered, "I'm so embarrassed right now. All this time and you said nothing, but you knew. And you said nothing. And you listened to my private thoughts and you didn't have the courtesy to interrupt me. I don't even know what to say."

"Please, it happened so fast and I was so shocked that I didn't know what to do. I needed some time. I just-"

Cameron cut himself off and reached out to hold her face in his palm. He leaned in, trembling, expecting her to jerk away, but she parted her dry lips and licked them. Her breath came in little puffs from her nostrils like a tiny dragon and at last, Cameron stopped thinking and lowered his lips to rest lightly on hers.

The barest pressure on her lips, the gentlest brush of his glove on her cheeks, she could pull away at any time and he was certain she would until he felt her take his lips with hers.

They stepped together as one only separated by the suddenly squirming infant strapped to his chest.

Cameron responded the moment she opened her mouth against his to deepen the kiss and groaned softly when she pulled the ends of his hair to bring him closer to her.

This was unlike any past kiss he had ever had. A fire in his chest roared to life and he pulled her tighter against him only just mindful of his fidgeting son between them. Cameron could feel his little head twisting back and forth and trying to look up to see what was happening.

But Cameron had an arm full of Belle now, she had his head in her hands and they kissed one another like they had been starved their hold lives.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," he whispered when they parted, panting, with their foreheads resting together.

"It doesn't matter. You're here now."

They stood like that with the white plumes of their breath mingling together in the cold. Cameron could not think of anything to say as he clutched her to keep her close to him and he could feel her gloved fingers gripping his hair. His glasses were thoroughly fogged so he could not see but he did not care in the least. Holding her made him feel solid and real, as if he had been drifting through his life like the steam of their breath until this moment.

Before his glasses cleared she claimed his lips again and he reciprocated eagerly. This time they indulged in long, slow, sweet brushes of lips and tongues as they learned one another.

When they separated at last, Belle sighed and cuddled into the curve of his neck with her body accommodating Brandon between them. When the last of the fog cleared from his glasses, he could see his son playing with her long hair and fisting her jacket. Cameron slid his arm around to her back to keep her close as he snuggled into her embrace.

It took him longer than it should have to figure out she was crying. Soft little sniffles, seeping around her control.

"Belle, Belle, what's wrong?" Cameron felt horrified, had he done something? But no, she had him tightly bound in her clutches, not letting go at all.

In fact she did not even move to look at him when she responded, "Nothing, for once, nothing."

"Sweetheart," he whispered, "I don't understand."

"I never, ever, thought," sniffle, "I never thought this would ever happen for me."

Cameron did not know what to say to that so he brushed kisses into her hairline and rocked the three of them as best he could given his cane and son.

It took some time, but Belle's tears subsided and she stroked his hair. Adorably, Brandon had leaned his head on Belle's shoulder, relaxing into their embrace. Cameron stretched to kiss the back of his baby's head briefly before returning his cheek to rest on Belle's hat.

Eventually she murmured, "If you would consider dining in my kitchen again, I make the world's best hot chocolate."

"That's quite the boast. I will need some evidence of this." Cameron demanded, mocking gently.

"It's not a boast if it's true. Come on."

As if they had always done so, Belle took his hand and they walked together back out of the cold, quiet woods.


	17. Chapter 17

Belle had given thought to keeping a low profile with Cameron for a while to cement his image as an independent voice of opposition to her habitual horn locking with Regina on their way out of the frozen forest, but those intentions were quickly dashed.

They had not taken three steps onto the sidewalk near the trailhead before Belle caught two sets of eyes staring blatantly in their direction. She was still holding Cameron's hand.

But then again, the owner's of those prying eyes were also holding hands.

Deciding to make the most of the situation, Belle smiled brightly and waved. She called out, "Good morning Regina, good morning Emma!"

She could feel Cameron startle out of his thoughts and he squeezed her hand briefly as he looked up and in the direction of her wave. And he took his cue from her giving them a smile before adding, "Madame Mayor, Sheriff! The woods are lovely, I do hope you're planning on a walk this morning."

"As a matter of fact, we were. Good morning Cameron, Belle." Emma's smirk could only be described as sly. Regina, however, looked on the edge of panic, though she was clearly trying to hide it.

"Did you have a good time last night?" Belle asked as they approached one another. "I heard Cameron had quite the successful opening night."

"I'll say he did," Emma answered, "Hell of a party. Do you think he's aware that Granny has been wanting to move in on that venue for decades?"

Belle laughed out loud at the color draining from Cameron's rosy cheeks, "He does now. We probably should not tell him he'll be hosting New Year's as well."

"What?" Cameron sputtered. "I can't possibly-!"

Regina had recovered by then and reached out to tug one of Brandon's bobbing feet, "Oh yes, and Valentine's and St. Patrick's. And you thought you were going to be running a library. Once Granny's got her foot in the door, you'll never get her out."

"That woman is the most unexpected party animal you'll ever find. She and Ruby have two storage units full of party supplies just waiting for an excuse to happen." Emma added jovially.

Cameron looked sick.

"Don't worry," Regina grinned, "I won't let her burn the place to the ground on the Forth of July."

Belle knew what this was all about. The two women were gripping each other's hands as tightly as she was clenching Cameron's. No one here was really ready for the gossip column so just maybe everyone would keep their mouths shut for a couple of days. Maybe.

"Well, I hope the two of you have a lovely morning. I promised these gentlemen hot chocolate and I always honor my agreements." Belle gave them another sunny smile and waved as she stepped past them with Cameron in tow.

"I did not sign up to host a year round block party!" He sounded indignant.

"Just wait 'till the tourists arrive."

"Belle!" The poor man was desperate.

"Cameron, it's going to be ok. I promise." She darted up to peck a kiss on his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to catch the epilogue. I surprised myself by writing a smut-less work when I had not at all planned it that way. These two just needed every ounce of my help to even touch each other. I decided to separate the epilogue because the story works without it and there are few enough fics that are safe for the smut-free crowd that I thought it would be worth the trouble.
> 
> Please do let me know what you think!
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr with my AO3 username and I hope to see you there.


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